Arc One: Arrival
by Angra Mainyu1
Summary: Killed in the final ritual, Weiß has to make sense of why they still exist today, and who these mysterious Shinigami are. Schwarz, meanwhile, are enjoying immortality. Shounen-ai. Part of the Angra Mainyu saga; Yami/WK crossover. [complete]
1. Part One

**Disclaimer:** Yami and Weiß belong to very creative, very important people. They are, sadly, not us. Therefore, we make no claim to own the bishies or concepts of either series. All we can do is watch and wish. And write.   
  
**Angra Mainyu**   
  
_Arc One - Arrival - Part One_   
  
----------------------------   
  
The ruby moon shone through the subtle hint of shaded clouds, casting a bloodied light upon the softly sleeping world of humans, none suspecting the meaning behind the colour. There was one, though, that realised the significance of the crimson moon. One that was no longer human, but still visited and dwelled within their world. That one was one of the Shinigami, ones who had lost their lives yet remained in a realm where they could return and help the living that they had once been. And that one had every reason to hate the sight of red upon anything, most especially the moon.   
  
Stepping softly across the street before a simple flower shoppe, Hisoka watched with cold eyes as the crimson tinge deepened on the lunar surface, a deep hatred flaring to life in his jade eyes. He knew too well what was the cause of the unnatural shade to the night's light. He could feel it in the air, a sense that tore into his very soul, and he could feel it in his body, the marks of his killer bringing a faint burning with that bastard's power surging somewhere. The pain of that cursed fire went on without his notice or attempt to stop it, long experience having shown the young Shinigami that there was nothing he could do to ease the pain that was the spell. The spell that clung to him, even in death and the half-life it had carried with it. The curse that had been given to him by that silver-haired murderer, the one that took so much pleasure in his pain.   
  
"Muraki," he whispered, no touch of warm longing in his voice. Only the bitter sound of his own hatred touched the tones, years of suffering from that night of torture afflicting the coldly detached nature of the speaker. Though somewhere, hidden within that hurt anger, also sat and odd curiosity; the longing to know what had brought to devil to the moon's light was beginning to burn in him. With the red lunar light, Hisoka already suspected the good doctor to have a hand, if not orchestration rights, in the evil that had taken to Tokyo. The level of that involvement was what he wanted to know, and he would track down the feeling of that fiery curse later to see. The touch was not Muraki's, which calmed him enough to set the task until later; still, the feel of another touched by that dark man kept his curiosity alive, and began to fuel a drive in him to find that person and see what was going on.   
  
First, though, he had the matters of the Summoner's Division to take care of, namely four new Shinigami to find. They were reported to live in the Koneko ni Sume ne, the flower shoppe to which he stood before. The hour being late, he was not surprised to see the business closed for the evening, metal grating lowered to keep intruder's out. That, though, hardly phased him.   
  
Pale emerald eyes glanced up and down the street, confirming the odd sense of desolation with its lack of life. That was exactly what he needed; no witnesses meant that he could use the gifts that death had allowed. Looking up towards the roof, Hisoka gathered his will about him as his feet lifted from the ground. The art of flying, a most basic Shinigami technique, had grown to be a second nature about him. He could use it with ease, though hardly freely; it was dictated that no witnesses could see it, lest the presence of the Shinigami be exposed and their mission in jeopardy from it.   
  
Barely a minute later, having taken leisure in the trip up the building, his feet touched gently on the roof. The first step of his 'intrusion' was simply completed, the next one just as simple. With another gathering of will, the teen simple disappeared from sight, another token ability of the Shinigami put into play. Lost from the eyes of others, he made his way to the door that would invariably lead inside, a hand reaching out to test the handle.   
  
"Locked," he murmured, stepping back. Without the patience or insubstantial nature to simply go through the door, Hisoka found himself facing a slight problem. Which, in the fashion of his impatience, he remedied with a simple kick. With a crunch, and a notation that Tatsumi would not be pleased if he noted a broken door as travel expenses in his daily log, Hisoka dealt with that problem.   
  
With a slight wince to the noise he had made, he again turned visible as he started down the stairs. His stealthy entrances would need improvement, but he had done what was required and the noise would hopefully be enough to wake the residents - such that he would not have to, of course. As for the danger in waking what was reportedly a group of assassins, he could simply shrug it off. There was little that they could do to end a life that had already ended, after all.   
  
--   
  
The moon's red glow illuminated a form sitting at a window staring up at the lunar satellite, the glow making his hair an even more vivid shade of red, his skin a shade paler than usual. Fujimiya Ran sat in his room just staring up at the night sky, a light frown on his lips as he noticed the blood moon, usually a sign of the coming apocalypse, or some sort of destruction, some sources said. His violet eyes narrowed as he stared up into the night sky, unable to sleep. And unable to dispel the feeling that the moon looking like that was familiar in some way. How, he did not know, for he was unaware that it was the same moon that had shown overhead, half shrouded in clouds from the rain that had fallen that night. His attention had been more fixed on the vision of his younger sister being struck down mercilessly by a car.   
  
His gaze turned from the moon to stare at the earring he held in his hand, watching the pale illumination make the gold bit of jewellery seem to glow eerily. It had been three days since the fateful mission in the ocean shrine where all chaos had broken lose, lives lost, portals to other realms opened. Not that he remembered that.   
  
Especially not the part of him being one of the ones to lose his life when they failed to stop the ritual from calling forth a being to Sakura's form. The Summoner's Division had kept those memories carefully from their minds so they would be told properly by one of their own Shinigami just what they were.   
  
But nothing could hold back the instinctive feelings that coursed through him that something had gone terribly wrong. And he didn't know what. And that unnerved him. Nor could anything truly keep him from feeling the empty coldness inside, a chill that just iced over to freezing every time he looked at this earring. His sister was still missing. A part of him was telling him that he had been close to finding her but no knowledge of her location came to mind.   
  
There was once a time where he was able to draw strength almost just by looking at the gold earring his sister had so dearly wanted him to buy her, the metallic dangle earring reminding him of his determination to avenge his family and keep his sister safe. Now when he held it in his palm he was just filled with a sense of failure... and he couldn't pinpoint why.   
  
Sighing he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the windowpane, tightening his hand into a fist hard enough so the sharp back of the earring bit deep into his palm. So caught up in his own thoughts he didn't even feel the slight prick of pain, nor did he notice as the puncture healed almost instantaneously even before blood could rise to the surface.   
  
Bringing his head up at the commotion Hisoka was making, he moved his hands back to his earlobe to affix the dangle earring back on its temporary owner. Frowning lightly he got up from where he sat, moving to the door to see if he heard any other sounds. It certainly didn't sound like any commotion the others of Weiß made at any hour of night, even when Youji came home drunk from one of his dates. Making his way to the door, he glanced out to see if anyone else had heard it and come to investigate, or knew what was going on.   
  
--   
  
The Tokyo skyline was glittering against the backdrop of the night sky, tall towers reaching to the dark heavens. The shining lights of the buildings seeming to melt against the bright stars, illuminating the blanket of blackness overhead sporadically. Every so often a few lights would flicker off as the residents of the buildings went home or went to sleep, falling to dreams, sleeping away as the beauty of the night fell over them. The red tinted moon hung high overhead, casting its pale light down to set the city into an ethereal glow. A city of millions, reduced to nothing but dark and light once night fell.   
  
It would all look so much better crushed and burning with the fires of hell, lighting the sky with an inferno of the hell from whence it came.   
  
A light cruel smirk curved onto soft lips at that thought and the one staring down out at the city through the windowpane turned away, dark eyes unblinking staring at the darkness in the room but able to see perfectly. How could it not? This was similar to its own realm, at least in the darkness. It lacked the nightmarish quality of the realm it called home. For now at least. The deep sapphire eyes were almost hypnotic, seeming to those that looked deep to hold all of the stars of creation in the bright depths. They drew a person in deeper, past the bright shine into the darkest depths. A void that was frighteningly empty and devoid of everything but black. The form moved across the room slowly, the tight flowing black garment it wore showing off nimble curves, dark waves of hair cascading down a nearly bare back to compliment pale smooth skin. A slow grace hardly of this world was in every single step. Though the demonic realm being was in a female form, it hardly considered itself female. This was just the host body it had been provided and it would do quite nicely.   
  
The epitome of youthful female beauty, host to an age old being of unimaginable cruelty and power, an utter lack of humanity and morality making it easily one of the most evil creatures. Very little to lose, everything to gain, no connections to anyone. Just pure destructive evil.   
  
Moving fluidly across the room, the being from another realm lit a few candles, the glow flickering on delicate features. Sinking down to sit on the floor in the lotus position, folding long slender legs under itself, soft lips parted to recite arcane phrases. Similar to the language that had been recited to call it forth to this dimension, though a more complex form of the language barely ever spoken in this world. It was said softly under one's breath in light meditation, the voice soft and sweet and having a musical quality to it. Though the words it spoke had an ancient feel, a loftiness that was only heard in nightmares and legends.   
  
What exactly the being was meditating on none could be sure but dark eyes stayed wide open, staring at the closed doorway to the room as the candles flickered, the temperature in the room seeming to rise. This is what it did when needing to think. It knew that the members of Schwarz were in this building somewhere but it hardly gave them mind. It had no desire to go mingle, even with those who had brought it forth to this realm and provided it with a host body.   
  
It actually imagined that they were all still adjusting to their immortal forms. Words paused at that, lips forming a tight smirk before continuing on. Fools. Immortality brought forth things no human could ever be prepared for, had costs none could foresee, but it had been what they wanted. So as the portal to the unknown had stayed open, it had bled off some of its own cursed immortality to the four. The same influx of power had been used to teleport the five beings from the shrine before it crumbled and toppled into the sea, unable to stay up from the chaos the demon brought forth to Tomoe Sakura's body had inflicted. As they left, the portal snapped shut before any other demons could come forth.   
  
Three days since then. Three days in this realm and it hadn't been able to destroy a single thing. It was starting to get antsy... but unfortunately, immortality hadn't been all the four former mortals that called them Schwarz had asked for. That had been a side benefit with opening the hell realm and providing the being a host body. So long as it remained in this host, a very nearly perfect vessel to hold it with its withheld power and agile limbs, it was under contract to serve Schwarz to a degree.   
  
A wicked smile broke over the sweet innocent features of Fujimiya Aya, hardly seeming fitting but the juxtaposition was that much more unnerving.   
  
It would do. It would do nicely so long as it seemed Schwarz goals matched its own.   
  
--   
  
The light of the ruby moon, unnoticed by the youngest of the white assassins, cast its glow upon the sleeping form. Still recovering, or so he claimed, from the trial of the ritual, the youth had taken to sleep early in the evening, further validating his decision with a claim to classes in the morning. In truth, though, he had retreated to sleep to gain perhaps a glimpse at something that had been haunting his mind for a few days. The image of a building, perhaps, surrounded by ever-blooming cherry blossoms regardless of the late summer feel to the air. The feeling that manifested itself in dreams, speaking to him that something had changed that fateful night, when those of Este had tempted forth the months of hell. All of it simply suggestions, clearing only in dreams that he found while in sleep, dreams he had been searching again for.   
  
Until the sharp snap of a wooden frame breaking interrupted that search, the hard thud of a door slamming open with it further pulling him from the image just as he had found it. There had been cherry blossoms and a warm spring breeze only a moment before, but as the distinct sound of an unsubtle intruder broke the serenity of dreaming, it all faded as though it had never been. The dreamer, suddenly deprived of the comforting touch of the season of birth, found himself laying alone in a cold bed, every last trace of the delicate scent of blossoms gone once more.   
  
Staring blankly at the plain ceiling to his room in Koneko, Omi tried to recall what the dream had been about, knowing faintly that he had seen or dreamt something so similar to it within the last few days. There was a faint hope that his search for the dream would provide him and answer if he could just close a hand around it. However, the answer to that curiosity was evasive and danced clear from his grasp. Later, perhaps, it would tease close enough to be snared, but it took joy in eluding him in the game of cat and mouse for the moment. As it had for the past three nights.   
  
Sighing softly at the loss of that comprehension, the honey-haired youth pulled his mind back to deciphering what had awakened him from the serene dream. Someone sharp and crashing, yet unlike any expected noises that might have arisen in the late night hours. Had it been Ken tripping on a stair, there would have been a few expectant curses following up; Youji would have continued with another crashing of noise were he returning drunk. Whereas Ran would never once have made that noise in the first place. Which left himself, a clear dud in the case that he had been asleep early in his bed, or an intruder.   
  
The thought of someone forcibly entering the building was enough to snap Omi fully awake, the last dreamy traces of the elusive cherry blossom scene fading from his attention as he slipped his legs over the edge of his bed and into the warm slippers always left there. Stealthy steps were taken towards his door, the handle softly touched and twisted open with barely a sound to accompany it.   
  
Slowly, he peered out of his room, sapphire eyes adjusted to the darkness and able to see faint shadows therein. Nothing jumped at his vision, though, aside from another familiar form nearby. "Ran-kun?" he asked cautiously, keeping most of his form safely within his room in case his eyes had deceived him. "Was that... you?"   
  
Standing just at his doorway, Ran stood still and listened carefully for the source of the sound. He held his sheathed katana in hand, but as the rest of Weiß knew it would only take him a half-second to unsheathe it and have it arcing towards dangerous intents. Not that it would do much good against a form that was already dead, but he hardly knew that.   
  
He turned his head slightly at the familiar voice of his youngest teammate, peering at the boy mostly hidden by shadows, his own eyes adjusting easily to the darkness. He raised an eyebrow at the boy calling him by his true name instead of Aya but dismissed it for now since he remembered the boy was one of the few members of Weiß who knew his true name. Even if he didn't go by it currently. He couldn't, not until the true Aya was able to reclaim it. That thought brought a cold shiver over his form and he tried to shake it off since he still couldn't place it. "Iie, it wasn't me," he replied softly. With the way Omi's hair was sleep tousled and he could see around the line of his form loose pyjamas, the boy obviously having risen from bed. So the question of it was him would just be a waste of words. "Must have come from the roof..."   
  
The faint hint of Ran's questioning of his words earned Omi his own silent reprimand as he realised what he had addressed the other by. While he had been privileged to that information, by extenuating circumstances, he'd told himself never to speak the name that so clearly made the other uncomfortable. It took no fool to realise that the habit of being called Aya was linked to the redhead's sister, and that was a sensitive enough subject as it stood. Having once endured the anger that could arise from pushing that matter too far, the youth had promised himself never to bring it up again. As he had just...   
  
Shaking his head softly, saving those thoughts for later, Omi looked across the hall to where Ran stood, his eyes too slowly adjusting to the shadows. While he had been trained to work in the night, the young assassin had a preference for light when it came to being able to see. He had equipment, such as his goggles, designed to let him see in the dark, but without their enhancing effect, he was having slight difficulty making out the form of the other.   
  
"Who would be up there at this hour," he murmured, a frown touching his lips. Almost unconsciously he reached to his jacket, hanging behind his door, where a small sheath of darts was contained. Deftly he pulled two free, keeping them within his grasp as he made a move to step silently into the hall.   
  
And promptly stubbed his foot on the slightly upraised moulding that separated the carpet of his room from the flooring of the hall. On any normal day, he would have seen and stepped over the little obstruction; however, the particular piece of floor trim had been recently put in to replace the worn one that had been there since the days he could remember. As such, he had yet to grow accustomed to it to simply step over it without a pause when trying to be stealthy; thusly, it was only to be expected that he would catch his foot on it.   
  
Barely restraining a yelp from the clumsy mistake, Omi glared at the dark ground. However, in the shadows, he could not quite pick out the offending piece of carpentry from the blackness around it. If only he had some light, he would have been able to see it and step over it, instead of tripping and possibly alerting his presence to their intruder.   
  
And, as quickly as the illuminatory thought occurred to him, the lights of the halls and surrounding rooms suddenly flicked on, flooding the area with a sudden, unexpected brightness.   
  
Blinking and raising a hand to guard against the sudden light, Omi was about to wonder how the hell all the lights had managed to go on without a person near each switch when a voice from the stairs to the roof clearly spat out a curse.   
  
--   
  
As expected, his 'stealthy' entrance had not gone unnoticed, given the sudden flaring attention of what felt like two minds. Prepared as he best could be to face the four new Shinigami, Hisoka was not drawn into their surprise, and thus their minds; instead his own mental presence hung on the outside of theirs, drawn away as distantly as possible to keep himself isolated. It was his self-defence, an inability to control certain aspects of his empathy requiring him to want to be alone. That want kept his mind away from others, allowing in only the strong impulses, flashes of passionate emotion, that others had. It kept him in control and sane, that was all he required of it.   
  
Stepping cautiously down each stair, he kept jade eyes alert for the signs of the others, his night vision sufficient for the task at hand. The best approach would be the soft and simple one, as difficult as it was to manage with his patience. To crash down the stairs into the waiting arms of assassins would be akin to intentionally shaking up a live hornet's nest: Just plain stupid. While others, on occasion Tsuzuki being one of them, might have that lack of intelligence, Hisoka prided himself on his ability to keep out of those blundering mistakes. Forget that he had been involved in his own fair share in the past.   
  
Readying to say something to alert the others of his presence, before they took a cautious offensive against their intruder, Hisoka paused. The sharp touch of another's pain flared in his mind, though softer than most he ever expected; instinctively he drew out the handgun he always carried, pain in the past being a warning for trouble. However, following the essence of pain came a quick sort of anticipation he had not known, as though the will of wish of the other being thought.. and then somehow put into play.   
  
And then, without expectation, every light in the hall and up the stairs flicked on, clearly illuminating him while flooding his vision with the burning blind white. His free hand automatically rose to cover his eyes, the fingers of his other hand tightening around the weapon he held in case this were an intelligent attempt to disarm him. Meanwhile, as his attention wandered to the surprise of what had just happened, he spoke the first words that came to mind, opening the path between 'ambassador' of the Summoner's Division and the new Shinigami with that first touch of diplomatic speak.   
  
"Damnit, turn those fucking lights off!"   
  
  
  
**Footnotes:**   
  
Read our ff.net profile for information about who we are and what AM is. 


	2. Part Two

**Disclaimer:** We don't own them, stop asking us if we do. =P WK and Yami are ownded by cool people, we're just a bunch of writers worshipping the coolness.   
  
**Angra Mainyu**   
  
_Arc One - Arrival - Part Two_   
  
----------------------------   
  
Sitting out on the balcony of the Schwarz penthouse, Schuldig did not acknowledge the spectacle of the blood moon. His mind was far from it. Literally. Head resting back against the side of the building, hands buried deep in the thick blond curls of some nameless wench kneeling between his spread legs, Schuldig was caught in a limbo world of duelling pleasures. One a matter of reflex as his body instinctive reacted to physical stimulus, the other...   
  
Well, the other found him cruising the minds of those in the city and creating mayhem and mischief in his passing. Currently, the telepath resided in the mind of one emotionally distraught man. The poor sap had been fired earlier that day and, afraid of losing face with his family, now stood on his balcony contemplating ending it all. And Schuldig was giving him a -hand- with that decision. Somehow he translated the ecstasy coursing through his own body into making the idea of splattering oneself on the sidewalk many floors below as erotic and appealing idea as possible.   
  
As Schuldig panted, the man did as well, slowly climbing up on the ledge, one hand trailing across his bare chest, pinching hard, sensitive nubs in an obscene echo of the redhead's actions. Shakily standing up, precariously balanced on the narrow railing, the man worked himself into a frenzy of sensation that did not originate from himself, all the while staring longingly at the cement below as he. When Schuldig tensed up, then plunged over into bliss, the man spread out his other arm and cried out his own release even as his body rushed to meet his now beloved pavement.   
  
Now, with the granting of immortality, the telepath had discovered that nothing much had really changed. He still had his telepathy, obviously and his freaky quick superhuman like speed. Only now he had this awesome new ability to heal much faster than normal and a better recovery period from over exertion of his powers. Not that he did that much. But it did happen.   
  
Like now. Schuldig had pushed the envelope by seducing that man into suiciding after prowling Tokyo with his mind for several hours. But then again they, whoever the hell -they- were, said that sex was good for curing headaches. A more primitive from of healing than what his new status granted, but added with the quick healing, that threatening headache never even had a chance to blossom.   
  
With a sated smirk, Schuldig yanked the girl away from him by her hair, ignoring her small cry as she stumbled back into the railing. He was satisfied and that's all that mattered. Rising from the chair, not even bothering to redo his pants and a lit cigarette already halfway to his mouth, he waved a hand dismissively at her and curtly told her to see herself out.   
  
Only when she had fled in tears did he turn his face up and gaze into the blood moon.   
  
--   
  
There are very few things that would stop a Shinigami from their appointed tasks. Powerful magicks, stronger spells, though in the case of this particular Shinigami it was nothing more sinister than an all night candy store. One of the most powerful Shinigami, even if he isn't aware of it, Tsuzuki Asato loved his sweets. And an open candy store in the path between him and his destination was a sign to indulge his sweet tooth.   
  
Taking his time to browse through the delectable choices of sugary goodies, Tsuzuki did not worry about his partner getting in over his head, nor did he wonder about the ominous red moon overhead. Well, to be honest he did wonder a little bit about the red moon and about Hisoka was doing. But honestly, he thought that the younger Shinigami needed to relax a little or have something chocolatey that would help relax him a little. He wasn't going to suggest it, but the little obsession with You-know-who-that-is-also-named-Muraki was a little too much at times.   
  
"Some people are just too serious by half," he murmured to himself, gleeing silently as he found some boxes of pocky that would be great with coffee in the morning.   
  
Finally settling on two boxes of chocolate pocky, a few boxes of imported German chocolate liquors, and a tin of almond paste fruits. Buy the whole lot from his own pocket, the Shinigami stuff the treats away in his trenchcoat and wandered out into the night air, pulling out the bit of paper with the name and address of where the four new Shinigami were holed up. Blinking at the scrawled handwriting, Tsuzuki scrunch his nose, purple eyes squinting at the scrawl then flipped it over and repeated the process. Tucking it away again, he adjusted his tie and headed in the direction he believed was the right one. At least that was the way he was going in the first place when the candy store called to him.   
  
He could sort of understand Hisoka's need to track the good doctor down and see to it that the man paid. It was normal for a murder victim to feel that way about their murder. But it wasn't healthy to dwell on it the way he was. Especially since the immortal could be somewhere else in the city that had nothing to do with a demonic surge of energy and four new Shinigami. Okay, so maybe he was hoping that Muraki had nothing to do with what they were sent to investigate. From the rather brief contact he had with the man, Tsuzuki was not too keen on getting any where near him again. He got shivers thinking about how the doctor was eyeing him.   
  
Anyways, he'll worry about that later. Right now he had to find a flower shoppe called Koneko ni Sume ne and find his partner before he got in over his head. These new Shinigami were once assassins and even death would not have tempered their edges. They may not kill Hisoka, but he could get hurt and that would be bad. For whom is a question he did not ask.   
  
Pausing in his search, he looked up at an over hanging sign and smiled, his odd-coloured eyes lighting up in success. Looking the place over, he raised an eyebrow, seeing that every light in the building was on. Either Hisoka had woke them up to explain what had happened to them or woke them up and is now getting himself hurt by people that do not like being surprised. So he could either run in there to save the day or just take a look around. Decisions decisions.   
  
Deciding on saving the day, he looked around to check for the cost being clear and heard someone approach. Grumbling how he now had to wait for whoever it was to past by before he could fly to the rooftop, Tsuzuki took out a candy to chew on while he waited.   
  
The soft steps made their approach towards the unsuspecting Shinigami, near silent in their path until halted as the newcomer paused to look over the late-night visitor to the busy city. The moon's ruby light, so noticed by some, cast a pale glow upon the flowing lengths of white cloth that was his apparel, the pure coloured trenchcoat only broken by silver-edged blue belts and adornments. Had Tsuzuki turned to face this new person, he would have instantly recognised him by the choice of white apparel along. That failing, the single silver eye gazing appreciatively at him would have likely helped him remember, along with the careful curtain of platinum hair that kept the other eye, a mechanical one, well-hidden. The essence of the moment though, and the reason why he had paused, was that the Shinigami had not turned to look at him. That left him with a moment of pure viewing appreciation, silver tones tracing down that perfect body, imagining all the plans he had once held for it and for the mysterious remains of his Saki.   
  
Those plans, though, were in the past... mostly. After being burned by the first of Tern Snake, and recovering slowly therein, Muraki had toned down his obsession with the perfect one for a bit. There were others that would suffice for Saki's revival, from the choice of his cursed little puppet to the four new puppets he had collected through service in information. Tsuzuki was still the perfect choice, just no longer the first one. The man's will was hard to break through his body alone; he would have to turn to alternative forms to have Tsuzuki in pieces.   
  
With a dark smile upon his lips, Muraki moved closer and raised a pale hand in and attempt to brush it through Tsuzuki's dark hair, to revel in the feel of that perfection again. And, perhaps, to incite that skittish scared-rabbit feeling in the other that could be so amusing; for being dead - or rather half-dead, half-alive - for seventy years, Tsuzuki had an amusing innocence about him that had him quickly shy away from his own unique sexual advances. "What brings you out at this time of night, beloved," he murmured, purposefully speaking as though there were something between he and Tsuzuki despite the lack therein. "You might catch a cold being outside too long along."   
  
--   
  
"Oi, oi, Kenken. Slow down. This is supposed to be a jog, not a goddamn sprint."   
  
Turning to run backwards to face his long time friend, Ken Hidaka smiled teasingly, "I am jogging. You're the one with the cancer riddled lungs."   
  
"I don't have cancer."   
  
"Yet."   
  
"I'm hurt, Kenken. You want me to die a horrible, horrible death from lung cancer." Youji Kudou stopped to lean on a wall softly panting for breath clutching at the ache in his side has his other lay flat against the wall he leaned on.   
  
Ken stopped but remained jogging in place completely unfazed by his pace of the exertion of his late night jog. In an attempt to extradite himself from yet another long night of Youji's loud porn fetish he'd opted to go out for a jog, test his mettle so to speak. Actually it had been an attempt to clear out the fuzziness in his mind. The past few days he'd felt disjointed and disoriented. Not to mention he was getting annoyed of the earthquakes that it seemed only he could feel. With the earthquake came the occasional odd flash of a half remembered memory of things gone horribly wrong, but the memory faded just as quickly as the tremor did. "I still don't get how you can smoke those things and still function on a mission."   
  
The blonde coughed a bit. Actually it was more like a wheeze than a cough as he flashed his seductive smirk. "Years of practice, Kenken. Years of practice."   
  
"Oi, oi. I don't know why I bother sometimes. You're insufferable."   
  
"Not as much as your precious Aya. Really you and he... it would never work. Fire and Ice is never a good combination. Or in Aya's case cold frigid Antarctic chunks of ice."   
  
The brunette rolled his aqua eyes and took off running, knowing that now the gauntlet was dropped Youji wouldn't let up. And true to his meddling nature, he could hear the blonde's footsteps mixed with his owns. "Honestly. I don't know why I told you."   
  
"Because I was annoying the hell out of you about that red head girl and you sometimes forget to keep your secret's when you get adorably pissed off."   
  
"Damnit. I need to learn to control my temper."   
  
"Naw. It's too cute. Like a pissy little Pikachu."   
  
"Omi's the pissy little Pikachu."   
  
"True. True. We're getting off the subject. Why Aya and not someone more suited to you... like me for example."   
  
"Ha ha. Funny. I like my pecker the way it is. I don't want any of your diseases."   
  
Youji gasped clutched his chest and promptly fell to the floor. "Ahhh, Kenken. Thou woundest me to the quick!"   
  
Ken stopped and laughed at his friend and yanked him up shaking his head softly. "Seriously. You and me? You're my best friend and anything with you would be just... weird."   
  
"I know. I know. I was just joking, besides anything is more plausible than you and -AYA-. I don't think he even has sexual thoughts let alone has a functioning penis aside for pissing."   
  
The younger male fell over in a fit of laughter at Youji's tone and expression. "You're horrible. He's our teammate!"   
  
"Doesn't mean I have to like him on a personal level."   
  
"I thought you liked Aya." Ken finally stopped his jog and just walked along his friend.   
  
"Okay. I do, but he makes it so difficult. The way he just stands there and looks right through you as if you're not even there. Hell as if none of us are there other than his target. It's fuckin' creepy! He's fuckin' creepy." With hands in the pockets of his sweatpants he sighed softly as he walked with Ken.   
  
The both of them fell silent for a moment both of them musing about Aya for different reasons. Youji wondering how in the hell Aya had managed to snag Ken's affection. Ken wondering what Aya was currently doing.   
  
Just then they turned the corner with Koneko looming just a head. Ken felt Youji's hand on his shoulder pulling him back. Ken's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the pair standing before the Koneko. He felt a light prodding and looked back at the playboy who nodded upstairs. Every single light was on in the third level.   
  
That was not good. Especially at this hour of the night.   
  
Together they walked slowly, Youji's hand never once leaving Ken's shoulder. It seemed to be one of the few things that could keep him from flying off ass first into a situation. Just that calming hand.   
  
Time suddenly seemed to slow as they approached the pair of men on the street. In fact when Ken glanced around the street he noticed an alley cat in mid-air almost but moving very slowly from the garbage can to the floor. A ball of paper caught in a breeze moved with the exact slow precision the cat was moving in.   
  
The approached the two and just as Ken blinked everything seemed to return to normal. He no longer felt that odd slowness about him nor did he feel as if he were moving way too fast for the things going on around him.   
  
Youji's voice broke the silence. In lazy come hither drawl he reached for a cigarette and lit the cherry before them and blew out a ring of smoke toward them.   
  
Ken recognised it as Youji's 'I'm quicker than I look and can kill you before you even blink' stance. He couldn't help but smirk. Years of practice indeed.   
  
"Can I help you gentlemen with anything? The shop is closed but maybe a nice bouquet of Monkshood would be to your liking which I can arrange for you in a second if that is what you desire."   
  
At the sound of Muraki's voice, Tsuzuki's purple eyes widen, his lips parting a silent whisper of the man's name. No. He wasn't suppose to be there. Muraki was suppose to be on the other side of town doing what he normally does, not standing close enough that Tsuzuki could feel his breath on the back of his neck.   
  
Feeling the whisper of fingers touching his silky black hair, Tsuzuki tensed, looking over his shoulder at the man in white behind him. Muraki had always sent a shiver of fear through him. There was something about the man that woke painful memories better left sleeping.   
  
Youji's voice breaking the stillness of the night woke him from his paralysis, the fingers of his left hand encircling his right wrist, feeling the bite of his metal watch into his skin. Twisting around he moved like a skittish horse away from the good doctor, eyes never leaving Muraki's face. He didn't put his back to him, even though moments before he had. He just couldn't, knowing what he did and knowing that Muraki had some weird obsession with him. Honestly what was with all those obsession-driven people and him? Why can't they go bother someone else? He was just a freak that wasn't even human when he was alive.   
  
With space to breathe, he glanced over at the two that had appeared with the suddenness of ghosts or Shinigami. There was a feeling about them, a touch of power that was not of the living world any more. They had to be a pair of the new Shinigami. It could be the only explanation.   
  
"I've actually came to speak with you about something important," Tsuzuki replied, pleased at least that his voice wasn't as shaky as he felt. "As for that-- creature, I haven't a clue."   
  
--   
  
Moving from his doorway out into the hallway as Omi went to retrieve a few of his darts, Ran suddenly turned his head down and shielded his eyes from the sudden flood of light. Violet eyes blinked rapidly a few times so he could get his vision to come back from the glaring brightness when he'd just been adjusting to the darkness. A glare was sent up to the offending hallway light bulb until he narrowed his eyes and looked away with a frown, a further thought other than 'too damn bright' blipping through his mind.   
  
How the _hell_ had that happened?   
  
Granted, Omi could have flipped on his light switch of his room while he'd been in there, but all lights of the floor simultaneously? He'd had his light off, so someone couldn't easily have been at the fuse box... Just another thing to add to the growing list of oddities that had occurred in the past few days. Glancing over to see if Ken and Youji had yet emerged, another light frown twitched on his lips to see their doors partly open but not a single sign of life from within. He was about to guess this was some kind of late night prank from the two when the curse sounded from the stairway leading to the roof.   
  
Definitely not Ken or Youji's tones.   
  
The fact that the two weren't present didn't exactly worry him for the moment. Though he was hardly familiar with all of his teammates' quirks and habits, he knew a few just from observation, and knew that Ken often went out for a late night jog. Why? Something about it being quieter and cooler and less crowded on the streets. He didn't bother himself with the whys of what they all did with their time, hoping they would return the favour and not bother him about some of his habits and hobbies.   
  
Moving forward through the hallway, he moved to press his back against the wall next to the doorway to the stairs so he wasn't in direct sight. Violet eyes sought out sapphire and he nodded his head faintly, trying to signal Omi to move back into his room to stay out of sight so they could have full surprise when whoever was here came down. It wasn't a voice he recognised and it sounded like there was just one person.... now is when he wished Youji with his wire was around so he could truss up whoever was in the stairway but he shook it off. He and Omi could handle themselves easily against whoever was there.   
  
He bit his lip slightly to hold in a breath, his brow furrowing slightly. He was used to having to be on the defence on missions but not in his own home... Although this wasn't the only time they'd been attacked in their home.   
  
Wait...   
  
Wasn't it?   
  
Shaking his head as that thought just fuzzed into confusion, the lack of memories of the ritual blurring the memory of when Schwarz had raided Koneko for Aya-chan, Ran just waited there out of sight to see if their intruder would come down.   
  
--   
  
The Berzerker of Schwarz was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, several of his knives spread out before him like a fan. Knives meant to rip flesh, break bones, to render a human from living flesh and blood to a pile of twitching meat have been sharpen and polished until the cold steel glittered in the light from the TV. Picking up a knife at random, Farfarello raised it, his single brandy coloured eye reflected back to him on the blade's surface. Tilting it to the side, he saw the image of Schuldig's latest flavour as she barged out of the telepath's room, her clothes clung tightly in her hands as she yelled at the German.   
  
So this was all there was after waking the sleeping Titan? What waste.   
  
Shrugging to himself, he twisted the knife in his hand and stabbed clean through his other hand and into his thigh below it. It was one of his usual tricks, his fingers willing experimentally to make sure that he can still use them before twisting the knife and jerking it out of his leg and hand just as easily as he put it in there. The girl shrieked behind him, seeing the bright splash of blood as it splattered across the floor.   
  
"Scream again and maybe your wishes will come true," Farfarello said, not even glancing at her, his eye focused on the now-stained blade. Bringing it to his lips, his pale tongue flickered out to take a swipe at the red liquid, nodding to himself at the slightly salty tang.   
  
The woman was panting now, trying to keep her sobs inside of her as she back away from this display. Farfarello stood up, turning to face her directly, the knife dropping to be held loosely in his hand. Bringing his stabbed hand to his lips, Farfarello cleaned it of the blood, the cut already gone like it had never happened.   
  
"Too late, maybe you should have left instead of watch," he said, taking a step towards her. "Or maybe you are already dead and your body already knows it."   
  
The woman opened her mouth to scream but by then Farfarello was upon her. And there was time for was a choked cry of pain.   
  
Watching the red moon from the window, Brad listened to the sounds from the living room, not needing to look to know that Farfarello was having his usual fun. Except the Irishman usually slipped out to do so, not risk being placed in his straightjacket because he made a mess on the carpet. The immortality granted to them by the demon did not seem to affect anything with the Irishman, who was continuing like nothing had happened. He knew he had to adjust to the odd feeling of his new body, and Brad was sure that the others did as well. And none of them lost their abilities as well.   
  
Raising the letter he received last night, the American re-read the elegant handwriting, his chocolate coloured eyes narrowing at the words there. Their mysterious benefactor was someone that gave them the necessary clues to finish the puzzle and bring forth a demon to fuel their needs. But Brad did not trust the person at all. Years of living and working within a group of ambitious backstabbers made him paranoid of this sort of unasked for help. No one gave anything away for free. No one would give them this kind of power without first creating a plan. And from the cold feeling he got from the letters, Brad knew that whatever it was, it was not good for his team.   
  
But for now, he would follow the advice. Until the path twisted away from his path. Then maybe the mysterious benefactor would find himself on the receiving end of Schwarz.   
  
  
  
**Footnotes:**   
  
More parts coming; there are four ready to post for this arc already. Think I should post them after work?   
  
Read our ff.net profile for information about who we are and what AM is. 


	3. Part Three

**Disclaimer:** Bishounen are hot. Yami and Weiß bishounen are hotter, but sadly owned by powerful business people. We are lowly fangirls who worship them, but not own them. Keep that in mind.   
  
**Angra Mainyu**   
  
_Arc One - Arrival - Part Three_   
  
----------------------------   
  
After the initial burst of painful light, and subsequent momentary blindness, Hisoka found himself slowly able to adjust to the sudden change in brilliance of his surroundings. Very slowly. The white spots before his eyes were refusing to simply disappear, a matter that wasn't helped any by the lack of response to his demand for the lights to be shut off. Well, that proved them strong-willed enough to not obey a stranger, however inconvenient the grounds of that proof was.   
  
Blinking again and slowly lowering his hand, a good deal less patient and a good deal more upset by the sudden appearance of light, Hisoka stared down the stairs. His descent was halted a moment longer, his weapon kept in hand as he considered his next step. With his 'pleasant' statement of a few seconds past, it was doubtless that they knew he was there, so turning and running was pointless and would only raise their suspicions of him. For a matter of safety, he could turn invisible again, but that would likely only confuse them and, thusly, rouse their suspicion further. The best course of action was to simply keep moving forward, as stupid as that may have appeared to walk into the waiting arms of the alerted occupants.   
  
However, that didn't meant he was going to blunder forward stupidly or blindly.   
  
Somewhere in his own angry confusion about the lights being turned on, Hisoka had felt himself 'taken' by the impression of another, a resolution for action and careful ambush passed to his mind from that of a calm one. With the taints of anxiety filtering through, threatening to sync up with his own mind and remove what little calm nature he had after the misfortune of the mission thus far, he tentatively guessed that one of the two awake ones was ready to confront the intruder on their turf, which probably meant the bottom of the stairs. It was nothing set to be read in concrete, but his intuition, on certain occasions, had been true enough to make a gambling guess like that turn out true.   
  
And, if he were right in this case, to continue as he was would be to walk straight into a defender of the house, who would likely not be pleased with his entrance, unwanted, in the night hours.   
  
Muttering a light curse under his breath, the teen descended a few more steps. His basic attempts at utter stealth were discarded, his feet making enough noise with each motion to let the others follow him by sound alone. Cursing his own idea, Hisoka stopped long enough to flick the safety of his gun on, the soft click being the only sound for the moment.   
  
With a sigh, perhaps directed at the stupidity of his plan, Hisoka gently tossed the gun down the stairs, hearing it land in the hall and skid a short distance. With hope, the two assassins would realise he had intentionally disarmed himself and thus would let him have a moment to speak without taking drastic action.   
  
Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall, just a few steps away from the hall; distant enough for comfort and safety. "I know there are two of you there," he said, his voice sounding casual, perhaps even a bit bored. As though, perhaps, he found their attempts to remain hidden from him rather cliché and predictable. In truth, he was simply trying to unsettle them with his words, and hoping that his following guesses were correct enough to win him a few more seconds. "One of you at the bottom of the stairs and ready to stop me if I come further. And the other hidden in a doorway as backup, I'd say."   
  
Letting his words trail off, he took another step down, and then another; the hope was that his statement had unsettled them into a pause so that he could approach without being stabbed... too much. "Don't bother hiding, I'm not here to kill you," he continued, adding silently that he was too late for that anyways. "There's some stuff we gotta talk about, like that ritual of demon summoning, and why none of you can remember it. I'm sure you're all dying to know why it's nothing but hazy thoughts."   
  
While he was still confused, and wary, about how the lights on the entire floor - or so it seemed - had gone on without a person at the switch or fuse box, Omi was hardly unaware of his surroundings. Once his sight had adjusted to the change in brightness, he had easily caught Ran's look and eased back into the cover of his doorframe. Breathing slowly, he tried to listen for their intruder's next words, half hoping that the person would simply turn and flee at the unexpected change.   
  
That, though, was clearly not going to happen; he realised such when the steps continued to grow closer, and lower. Whoever it was, they had gotten over the surprise of the lights and was still coming. His body tensing, he glanced to the hall, catching sight of a pair of runners and the hem of a slightly worn pair of jeans as the intruder took another step closer. Neither looked familiar, just as the voice had been unknown, so any last hope of it being one of Weiß sneaking inside through the roof was discarded.   
  
Taking a sharp breath as the other tossed down his weapon, Omi bit his lip. Somehow they'd figured out the unspoken plan of attack, suggesting perhaps that they had intuition of a mental sort. Mastermind of Schwarz came up as an option, a glimmer of upset stirring at that thought. If Schuldig had ever dared to show his face at Koneko... But why would he throw down his weapon? It hardly seemed like an option for the German to choose.   
  
The thought was cut off from wherever it was going as the person resumed walking. Slowly more of him - and it did seem to be a he - came into view, revealing a slightly lean and slender form wearing worn jeans and a matching jacket. Again, nothing familiar rested about it, and further inspection as halted by the movements of the others, who clearly didn't want to risk anything further in the way of his safety to earn a look down the hall. A glance was risked to Ran, the question of what was going on clear in sapphire eyes, as well as what they should do next. The intruder had an unnatural insight into their minds thus far, it was suspicious in that alone. Who other than Mastermind could possibly read their minds?   
  
The discarded gun was reached to with a foot and slid over out of reach, Ran peering down at it in mildly frustrated curiosity, hardly feeling a victory with the surrender of the unseen man's weapon. Perhaps it was tossed down as a sign of diplomacy, that the man hadn't come to harm them and therefore didn't need his weapon. He lifted his head from staring at the gun, trying to discern something more meaningful by staring at its cold metal surface, as the intruder began to speak, his voice easily echoing down the stairwell.   
  
The boy's blasé attitude as he spoke nearly made the redhead twitch but he suppressed it to not show annoyance, and glanced again at the gun. Or maybe he didn't need his weapon to harm them. How had he been able to know exactly how many there were on the floor when far more lived here, as well as pinpoint their exact locations? The basic plan, true, wasn't the most creative in the book, but it still shouldn't be so blatantly obvious to the last detail to someone who couldn't even see them. Ran's thoughts ran along the same lines as Omi's, trying in vain to figure out who this one could be. He wasn't Schwarz.... the voice was wrong, the tactics of entering the building seemed off, and Schuldig had the oh so loveable tendency to perk up with a nice how do you do in one's mind, very clearly marking his presence. If he wasn't Schwarz... perhaps he was of their same organisation...   
  
At the mention of the ritual summoning, a memory flared bright and harsh in the man's mind, one of his last remaining memories of being alive though he didn't quite realise that fact right now. He wasn't ready yet so it all stayed hidden in the fog of the deepest part of his mind, waiting for light to be brought on the subject, to burn away the fog. The memory was almost painful as it flashed. Wind howling through a deep stone chamber with a strange chanting barely audible, but hypnotic and commanding even in its quietness. A dead calm finally and a figure sitting up. And it all collapsed. Utter destruction swirling out from the form sitting on the altar, opening its feminine lips to let out a loud howl like the screaming pits of hell. Pillars crumbled to dust, bodies fell some with a quick death others just in pieces. A hot inescapable vacuum suction rushing, seeming powerful enough to suck the life and soul from a person...   
  
And then the memory was gone.   
  
Violet eyes widened at it and blinked as it faded. Though he had random short glimpses of the ritual that faded quickly, none had ever been that vivid or lingered that long. Narrowing his eyes as the last of it faded back into the haziness of his mind, he looked over to Omi and shrugged faintly. "Come down then and we can see who we're talking to," he said simply in a firm voice, looking back to the stairwell.   
  
--   
  
Every little action Tsuzuki made was noted with twisted satisfaction, Muraki pleased to know that he could still play the Shinigami into nearly any corner he chose. That would likely prove useful in the days to come, when he put his own plans into play and stopped toying about with hints and suggestions to those he intended to use for his purposes. For the moment, though, it was simply something to note and avoid exploiting; he did not want to adjust Tsuzuki too much to his presence and actions, else the surprise and effective nature of them would wane when he needed it most. A simple pleasure, if you will, to signal the foundation of his future venues.   
  
Being insulted in some derogatory fashion would not do, he decided as Tsuzuki spoke those cold words of him. He was a member of society's upper-class, in the sense of the public eye, and didn't want his reputation tarnished by such blatant words - even if they were true in some small sense. Letting his hand drop to his side, having felt the pleasing, if short, touch of that perfect hair, Muraki turned his silvery gaze to the pair that had interrupted his little moment with Tsuzuki. "I'm not here for any flowers," he said smoothly, lifting his shoulders in a gentle shrug. "This man here was a former patient of mine and I was only stopping to see how his health has been since our last appointment. After all, an illness of the mind, which corrupts the thoughts to see even the purest as little more than animals, is certainly something that a surgeon should be concerned with."   
  
Flicking his cool gaze to Tsuzuki again as he spoke, he let the taint of a dark smile touch his lips again; it was a warning to the other that he would not stand for such treatment in the future. Then he looked to the building they were standing before, noting the odd lighting on the third floor and the darkness everywhere else, and finally the name of the shoppe.   
  
Koneko ni Sume ne... How quaint. It was on the level of offering an arrangement of monkshood to late night visitors. Where he lacked the extensive knowledge of flower languages, Muraki knew enough the meaning behind that bloom, having seen a few of his past puppets receive it as a gift for flawed services. Very quaint attempt to scare him off, though, he had to credit them that. Though it would require a bit more than flower petals to send him to darkness prematurely.   
  
Today, however, he would let them cling to a small victory and would withdraw. He had other matters to attend to first, such as contacting his carefully cultivated, and likely now immortal, puppets. These new toys, so carefully hidden in this Koneko, could admired later for their possibilities. The presence of a Shinigami protecting them phased him not, his abilities enough to have held most at bay in the past. It would, of course, be especially delicious if there were the pair present together; he so missed conversing with the boy and hearing all that hatred in the voice of such youth.   
  
"Since you gentlemen seem to have business together, I will withdraw," he said, keeping his voice gentle and calm, to soothe their upset. "Beloved, perhaps we can continue this conversation later," he added towards Tsuzuki before nodding a goodbye to the other two.   
  
With one last look to the building, Muraki turned and began to walk away, intending to disappear into the shadows of the night once more. As his footsteps faded from the others, the perverse doctor removed a cell phone from his pocket and dialled in a simple number. If his sources were correct, then the number would connect him up with the leader of Schwarz, so that he could arrange to pay them a visit and see how they were faring. If not... Well, he would have to have a word with his sources and investigate why they failed him.   
  
A former patient... At those words, Tsuzuki shivered, his fingers tightening on his right wrist, feeling the metal bite into scar tissue. The physical marks of a soul in torment that was pushed beyond the brink by Muraki. Not that he did not need to be pushed very far. The good doctor knew him and knew him well, as he proved during their last encounter. If it wasn't for Hisoka, Tsuzuki would have let the fires of the Tuan Snake end his life for good.   
  
Hisoka... The blonde Shinigami's words in those fires haven't been repeated since he had recovered from the flames, but they weighed on his mind. He just never had found the right time to ask Hisoka about them yet. Well, Tsuzuki had plenty of time but the wounds of the fire and what brought him to that state had not been healed enough where he felt comfortable enough to ask his partner. Were they words of a friend and partner? Or was there something more?   
  
What ever the answer was, those words felt far more right than being called 'beloved' by Muraki.   
  
Resisting the urge to pft the doctor's back, Tsuzuki uncurled his fingers from his wrist and raked them through his black hair, unconsciously trying to erase the feeling of Muraki's touch, the skittish fear in his eyes fading into his normal expression of cheerful seriousness. Turning to the two men, he smiled and shrugged.   
  
"You can't believe what that man says, the last time I met him, he was trying to kill us..." Realising that he was rambling, Tsuzuki shook his head and smiled ruefully.   
  
"Where are my manners? I'm Tsuzuki Asato from the Summoner's Office of the EnmaCho's Shoka Division and me and my partner were asked to speak to the four that work at the Koneko ni Sume ne. I believe he's already inside..."   
  
The look between the two assassins was nothing short of comical. Aquamarine eyes clashed with emerald as twin sets of eyebrows raised in silent shock of the scene around them. Youji didn't let on that Muraki's blasé treatment of his comment annoyed the hell out of him other than letting the cigarette smoke out through his nose than the usual seductive ring from his mouth.   
  
The two had watched in stoic silence the departure of the doctor but once Tsuzuki had opened his mouth to speak about the reason he was outside their door, the pair had just gone into their shocked Laurel and Hardy routine.   
  
So it was no surprise that even after so many years together they often thought along the same lines and even less of a surprised when they voiced them at the same time.   
  
"You're who?"   
  
"From the what?"   
  
"Would you repeat that again?"   
  
They both glanced back at the lit third floor then back to Tsuzuki. Ken looked back at the Shinigami a look of annoyed disbelief on his face, "Did you say he's already -"   
  
"Inside?" Youji finished just as incredulously. They both swore and took off into a run around the back alley. At the same time they poked their heads around the wall, Ken opened his mouth to speak first.   
  
"What are you doing out there?"   
  
"If you're not here to kill us?"   
  
"And we weren't assigned to kill you..."   
  
"Get your ass over here!" The last was said simultaneously once more before they ducked into the alley toward the back door of Koneko and started punching in their access codes.   
  
Blinking at the pair of once living assassins, Tsuzuki stood in front of the shoppe for a few seconds longer, taking the time to eat another sugar-filled energy booster. All that being scared of Muraki had made him hungry, though if one would listen to Hisoka, Tsuzuki was always hungry. But that was because Tsuzuki had eight years of no eating to catch up on.   
  
Licking the sugar off his fingers, the Shinigami straightened his tie and hair before following the two assassins around the back of the Koneko. These two seemed to be alright, but he wondered why he needed to hurry. It was not like the other two would kill Hisoka. They could try but Tsuzuki knew that even being newborn Shinigami, they could not harm an experienced one like his partner.   
  
Unless they were corrupted by Muraki.   
  
Eyeing the two men, Tsuzuki determined that the good doctor did not touch them at all. There was none of his taint about them, so there was a good chance that maybe all four were clean. But seeing that Muraki knew where they were, there was a good chance that he had plans with them.   
  
--   
  
The noise stopped in the other room. Crumpling up the note, Brad took out a lighter, flicked it open and ran the small flame along the paper's edge. After a moment, flames greedily ate at the paper, starting a merry little blaze in the centre of his palm. The flames themselves also singed his skin, but some practice over the last couple of days had gotten Brad used to knowing when to dump the still flaming paper from his hand into the waste bucket. Brushing the bits of ash off his hand, he arose and started for the living room.   
  
Farfarello brushed by him carrying a large garbage sack full of something wet sounding, the Irishman, heading for the penthouse's incinerator. The albino was splashed liberally with blood, his pale skin and hair nearly stained red. Sighing very faintly, Brad stepped over the spreading stain on the hard wood floor, not wanting to get the splashed on his slippers. Flicking on the light, the Schwarz leader picked up the remote and turned the station to the news.   
  
Farfarello came back with a mop and a bucket, cleaning up the floor to remove all traces of the woman from their apartment. Farfarello's humming mixed strangely with the reporter's commentaries, Brad thought as he reached into his pocket for his vibrating cell phone. Flipping it open, he pushed up his glasses with one hand and said, "Crawford," into the phone. After all, the only ones who knew the number were repeat clients.   
  
Strolling calmly through the darkness, having no fear of whatever might have lurked in any path, Muraki let a smile equal to the unnatural tone of the moon touch his lips. The young hacker that had provided him with the contact information for his new puppets would be well rewarded for his work; if generosity struck the doctor, he stood the chance of letting the boy life a few more years before the poison of his curse claimed him. Perhaps. Until then, the youth would remain alive, thinking of him as his doctor and aide in defeating the childhood disease that afflicted him, instead of the truth of him as the cause.   
  
"We finally exchange words, Crawford," he replied smoothly, his deep voice carried easily through the lines. "Given that you are alive to answer the phone, I assume that my little tips and bits of information from the last few months have proven of worth to you and your associates. How else could one have survived the rampage of a demon, hm?"   
  
Slowing to a stand at a corner, the light of a street lamp bathing him in an ethereal glow that made him appear far more of an angel than he could even truly claim to, Muraki turned his silver gaze to the slowly clouding sky. The overcast signs were suggesting a touch of rain later, and how true that was; he would bring about that rain, though in a more symbolic sense than the literal terms.   
  
Muting the telly with the push of a button Brad frown lightly to himself, loosing his tie with one hand while he listen to the voice on the other end. Their mysterious benefactor had finally decided to get in touch with them, how nice of him. Maybe Brad should cheer and thank the maker for such a miracle as well. Smirking at his sarcastic thoughts, the precog tugged his tie off and let the strip of cream silk fall from his fingers.   
  
"Your information was rather useful," Brad replied, undoing the first two buttons of his white dress shirt. "And it would seem that you are well aware of who we are and what we were doing, but I don't believe I have the pleasure of meeting you, Mister..."   
  
Raising an eyebrow, Muraki held back any urge to chuckle at the complete lack of knowledge that the other held. Given what he knew of the group, he would have expected a profile already built about him from the youngest, who apparently had some skills with the computer. Or perhaps the German, who was said to read minds and could have picked up the information from a ex-'patient' of his. Curious that they hadn't, but fare more to his benefit.   
  
"Doctor," he corrected. "Muraki for the specifics, if you feel the need. And I was hoping we could remedy the situation of your lost knowledge. Perhaps we could arrange to meet sometimes, or this evening? There is much we could discuss, such as exactly how useful it was."   
  
"Ah, I see, Doctor," Brad replied smoothly, switching hands with the phone as the Irishman came back to settle down on the floor with is knives. A brief smirk touched his lips, his cold eyes watching the soundless anchorman of the news program. It sounded like his ruse had worked in a small way.   
  
Brad disliked having his plans interfered with by anyone, so when the first mysterious tip appeared, Brad had immediately had Nagi and Schuldig work on it to find out more about the person who sent it. The good doctor was good enough to hide some of his activities from the public eyes, but Schwarz was not like any other group in Japan. He had a rather well-documented profile built of the man, but there were some key pieces that didn't quite add up. Yet.   
  
"A meeting face-to-face would not be unwelcome, Doctor. Do drop by at your convenience, tonight if you wish. We are currently between jobs."   
  
And so the trap began to close upon his prey. By no means would it be a quick capture, but the first step - that of placing the foot in the circle of metal teeth - had been taken by the ones of Schwarz. With time they would be painfully caught in his plans and unable to do anything but his will. At least, that was the plan intended; how smoothly that went would depend on the four puppets he had now acquired.   
  
"Very well," he said, still walking with a casual air through the streets, despite the dangers of the midnight hour. "Prepare yourselves, since I am already on my way. I am looking forward to learning what success you have made with those trivial bits of information I lent you."   
  
The words were left hanging, the emphasis on lent left to Crawford to ignore or ponder on. Meanwhile, Muraki emerged again from shadows, his powers receding from the exertion of a darkness-hidden teleport. Turning his silvery gaze to the building he had emerged closest to, he smiled. According to his information, his new puppets were waiting inside, on one of the highest floors. He could contain only with some minor difficulty the anticipation of meeting the powerful four that were now his. Contained it was, though, for he knew there were larger prizes in life. Just as he had remained calm at learning his dearly cursed puppet had become a Shinigami or that his beautiful partner had been the perfect specimen for his Saki experiments, Muraki showed nothing of his emotion. There was no need to glee about any matter until the fish were firmly lodged in the net.   
  
  
  
**Footnotes:**   
  
Would have posted this last night, were it not for the Shift From Hell making me tired as hell. Hope you enjoyed part three of this arc. Comments/reviews are strongly appreciated.   
  
Read our ff.net profile for information about who we are and what AM is. 


	4. Part Four

**Disclaimer:** Tired of reading this yet? Yami and Weiß concepts and characters don't belong to us, therefore please do not sue us. We are all either poor college students or poor adults, and all we can do is offer up yaoi writing as payment. That doesn't work, so don't sue us.   
  
**Angra Mainyu**   
  
_Arc One - Arrival - Part Four_   
  
----------------------------   
  
As Ran pushed the discarded weapon out of reach, Omi reached down to pick it up, curling the fingers of his free hand lightly about it. There was no reason to leave it discarded on the floor, where the intruder might attempt to grab it. In the end, the gun was far safer, to those of the house at least, in the hands of an occupant instead of an unknown.   
  
Still keeping to the doorway, though allowing himself a better view of the stairs, he looked at Ran again, catching the oddly surprised look on the other's features. It faded quickly, too quickly for him to truly note what had been the cause, but it had been there. The reason behind it was something that snared his curiosity, yet he held off for the moment and dismissed it as a reaction to the words of the intruder. He had felt a sense of unsettled surprise at the naming of their locations and then the mention of the ritual, so it was hardly unnatural for Ran to have felt something similar.   
  
Before more thought could be donated to that path, their intruder began to move again, slowly descending the steps. Turning sapphire eyes to carefully observe, he dismissed the errant ideas flickering through his mind about the source of the stranger's information. That question could be answered once they knew who the person was.   
  
"Identify yourself," he said, his voice soft but determined.   
  
Intentionally without a weapon, Hisoka was attempting to see if there were any positives thus far to his current position in the tense situation. He lacked his gun, the element of surprise was gone completely, and now all the good cards were in the hands of the other, while it was his turn to play one. Were he a cheater, there might have been a card up his sleeve to play; as it stood, he was short a few good choices.   
  
Waiting for a response to his words, the youth idly lets his mind open to the others, trying to pick up suggestions of what they were feeling, and perhaps through that thinking. Far from a telepath, at best he could usually only pull - or be pulled in by - a series of impressions or images; there were rare moments when he caught a thought or two, but his gift was not extensive enough to make that reliable. Without that, though, he found his empathy to be useful enough, though it came with heavy consequences. When caught unprepared, his mind was pulled from his own control, his soul put through the very same things that the person was going over in their minds. Not always bad, the instances could be enlightening, but there were times that it was painful. He could still vividly recall the night when he had been pulled into Tsuzuki's mind and past, the pain and sorrow of the life the other had lived infusing his own being. Things such as that were not something he liked to repeat.   
  
The sudden shift and memory in the mind of the older one was almost such a thing. Waiting for a feeling of confirmation or negation, Hisoka was unprepared for the memory that struck the other; barely able to hold to himself in time to pull out, he caught only the glimpse of a girl sitting up and then the feeling of absolute chaos. That was enough to send his hand out to the wall as a support, a deep breath slowly being taken in as his eyes stared blankly to the ground. Even away from the other's mind, he could still feel the confusion of the memory, and the pain therein; unable to just block it, his empathy too strong to simply shut down, he simply tried to endure the impression until it faded from the other's mind, and thus his own.   
  
When finally it did, he took another slow breath before dropping his hand from the wall. Glancing to the stairs' end, he kept silent his hope that neither had caught the falter of his. There seemed to be no change, which could mean little or a lot.   
  
"Come down then and we can see who we're talking to."   
  
Well, at least they had decided to let him come down the stairs completely.   
  
Deciding that the reality of that would suffice, he began to descend the stairs, slipping his hands into his pockets and generally seeming quite relaxed. Or, rather, quite like the sixteen year old he appeared - and often acted - to be. As he reached the floor, he took in the sight of the blue-eyed assassin first, noting his gun in the other's hand and the inquiry for his identity.   
  
"Hisoka," he said coolly. "Kurosaki Hisoka; I was sent from the Summoner's Office, EnmaCho's Shoka Division, to speak with Tsukiyono Omi, Fujimiya Ran, Kudou Youji, and Hidaka Ken about an important matter. Where are the other two?"   
  
The urge to ask for the boy to repeat where he was sent from was suppressed. A second mentioning of that office and division wouldn't make Ran magically know what in the world he was talking about. It was most assuredly though not something he'd ever heard of. Still casually leaning against the wall near the stairway to the roof, a cold hard gaze moved over the boy's form. And he did very much appear to be a boy, younger than Omi possibly... but his time in Weiß with the honey blond manager and his own experiences had made him not one to just judge or underestimate on age alone. Schwarz had a member younger than their own youngest anyway.   
  
"I am Fujimiya, but don't call me that. I simply go by Aya," he said, not even speaking his own true name. He wasn't going by that name currently... couldn't and wouldn't until his sister was back safe and sound, as well as awake. There would always be one Fujimiya Aya in the waking realm, just as he'd promised her as she lay sleeping even as the doctors told him he'd best just forget about all of this. A trim crimson eyebrow arched up at the boy's question and he shrugged faintly, not about to just admit flat out he was uncertain of his teammates' locations. "We're all what one would call 'night owls' and were hardly expecting company. They're out."   
  
"Naw... Actually..."   
  
"We're back."   
  
"And with one of his friends."   
  
It had been Youji sans his cigarette who'd originally spoke when Aya had declared them out. The pair stood against opposites walls of the hallway eyeing the Hisoka. They'd caught the tail end of his introduction on their way up the stairs and hadn't been fully on the landing when Aya had said they were out.   
  
Ken looked back down the stairwell looking for the other one but then turned his attention to his teammates. Gem hued eyes noted the gun in Omi's hand then the new blonde standing near them. "That one was armed? Ours just had a big pile of candy and some sliver haired fellow putting the moves on him. That guys gone. The silver haired one. I didn't like him though."   
  
"Me neither. There was something... icky about him." The eldest of the assassins drawled lazily just piddling with his watch always on the ready to launch the thin filament should there be a need to.   
  
"Icky?"   
  
"Yeah icky."   
  
"Couldn't you use a more... professional description?"   
  
"Naw... 'icky' works."   
  
"Oi, oi." Ken simply rubbed his forehead softly brushing his wayward bangs back before the flopped back in their usual disarray.   
  
Glancing to Ken and Youji, allowing a soft smile to touch his lips at the relief of seeing the other two fine after their absence - he had to admit having been worried with the strange occurrence of Hisoka's arrival and the odd lighting problem - Omi nodded to the former's question. "Just the gun, I think," he said quietly, enough for those of Weiß to hear and hopefully no others.   
  
Keeping a hold of the weapon, he looked behind Ken and Youji to see that mysterious friend of the teen who had broken in. The oddness of the situation was growing more and more confusing, something he thankfully held at bay by telling himself that the answers or hints therein would be provided soon.   
  
Under the harsh visual scrutiny from the redhead, Hisoka failed to flinch, or generally show any signs of being unsettled by the search of such cold violet eyes. If anything, a bit of defiance touched his posture, his eyes shifting to meet Ran's in an attempt to stare him down. The youth in his body, and the sense of it his mind, was reacting to the harsh authority, responding to the wilt-inviting gaze with a boldly rebellious stance. He would not stand to being stared down by a person younger than he in terms of death; for once he was no longer the weakest Shinigami - for the moment, at least - and he refused to let any of the new ones get a foothold in which to surpass or control him in that.   
  
At the sudden arrival of two other voices, the young Shinigami turned his jade eyes to the previously 'missing' assassins. That accounted for all of them, which simplified his task some. He was speak again, to tell them to stop wasting there time with words as Tsuzuki had his with candy, when the meaning of who that silver-haired man outside had been clicked in.   
  
At first, there was hardly any change, save for a flickering of surprise across his features. That changed as the information sunk in, his body tensing as a fiery hatred rose up in his eyes. Not even a fool could have missed the sudden change in his mood and temper, his hand clenching uselessly on air, as though trying to grasp onto his missing gun.   
  
Underneath the sudden and all-consuming moment of anger, there lay the logic linking up the matter together. There had been a ruby moon, and as he had arrived, Hisoka had felt the burning pain of the curse marks that had been carved into his skin down to the bone; neither clue had lightened their influence as he approached Koneko, instead the latter one subtly increasing in its pressure as he grew close. that could only mean that Muraki had been close by, but that close... It was insufferable, how that damn man taunted him by staying just outside of his reach, but well inside of his sight.   
  
"Where did he go?" he asked, his moments before cool voice now carrying the faint tremble of an anger stead deeply in the soul. "What did he say?"   
  
"Candy is good for you," Tsuzuki said cheerfully, striding up the stairs after the two males. "It's good for sudden shocks, and energy and feeling better and goes with all kinds of foods. And I've found the perfect place to get imported chocolates."   
  
Stopping behind the two men, he nodded in greeting to Hisoka, stuffing his hands into his pockets to look non-threatening to the four new Shinigami. In his business suit, his tie undone and his shirt opened at his throat and still wearing his trenchcoat, he looked like an officer worker that had just finished with work. There was no indication that he was over a hundred years old, nor that he was one of the most powerful Shinigami in Japan.   
  
Compassionate eyes the colour of the velvet twilight sky gazed steadily at the enraged teen, his voice smooth and serious as he spoke, "Hisoka, all he wanted to do is freak me out and play his games some more. He went off down the street when these two showed up and all he did was call me 'beloved'. And he spoke about being my doctor which he never was, and such. Just relax a little and let's get this over with, okay? Muraki is gone and we have stuff we have to get done. And candy isn't a waste of time."   
  
Biaaading him, Tsuzuki crossed his arms over his chest and smiled, his fright of earlier forgotten. If Hisoka was going to be the grumpy one, then he should be the cheerful one. Right? Right.   
  
The cold blank stare was returned to those bright jade eyes evenly until Hisoka looked away at Ken and Youji's sudden appearance. Never once did a single sign of surprise move over his face as they arrived just as he proclaimed them to be out and about. Ran's gaze moved off of the blond experienced Shinigami and past his teammates to give the same cold observation to the dark haired male who came up with the other two of Weiß. His hand tightened faintly on the katana hilt he still held as he saw Tsuzuki arrive with his hands in his pockets. Hardly the smartest of moves to appear before assassins, looking as if one were trying to conceal a weapon when one's companion had just broken into the building for whatever reason. Already he guessed though they were each hardly what they appeared, despite their casual appearances.   
  
As the other violet eyed male jabbered on about candy, Ran rolled his eyes faintly and returned his gaze to Hisoka, finding the younger male's cold exterior more interesting to observe and try to see more past than Tsuzuki. His head tilted to the side curiously at the sudden change in the blonde's demeanour and the faint quiver in his earlier bored and calm tones. Similar, vaguely, to his own reactions long ago to mentions of Takatori. Tsuzuki's answer just piqued his interest that much more, as well as made him a bit wary. Games... sounded far too much like Schuldig and Farfarello of Schwarz's love of mental games... and these two were connected to this person who already had half of Weiß take a disliking to him?   
  
"And just who is this Muraki," he asked evenly, taking into consideration what Ken and Youji had said. Other than infrequent and understandable mistakes in judgement... (*cough* Kase and Neu/"Asuka" *cough*) the pair were very good judges of character, using well trained senses and instinct. "Another one from the EnmaCho's Shoka Division of the Summoner's Office?" He leaned against the wall still with his covered blade in hand, eyeing them both to try to gauge their reactions.   
  
One of their first tastes of Fujimiya Ran that Weiß was all too familiar with. The man always liked to have at least a tiny grasp on control of any situation, especially when he or Weiß wasn't in full control. And he would ask the questions he wanted to ask, even if they were painfully blunt and possibly not what one wanted to answer. It was just how he got all information on a subject he felt he needed. And he'd like to know more about this man who struck such a nerve in Hisoka, even with a slight mention, other than he was icky.   
  
"He calls himself a doctor and he is one to an extent," Tsuzuki replied, his voice and manner turning completely serious for the moment. The warmth and kindness disappeared from his odd-coloured eyes, a flame lighting inside their depths. Tsuzuki knew that Hisoka would do one of two things to answer Ran, or rather Aya as he wished to be called. Either ignore the question to go off on his own to search for the man or answer briefly and then go off after the man. Hisoka may dislike his butting in, but Tsuzuki was trying at least to spare him any bit of bitterness that he could.   
  
"But he's a sadistic doctor who seems to create 'miracles' that are more like enslavement of his patients. He will cure anything for a price, either in money or pain or one's soul. He is completely insane, but that kind of insanity that makes him hard to stop or capture. He has a thing about 'dolls' and is on the search for a 'perfect body' to use in an experiment. He is accountable for several deaths in his search and the attempted murder of me and my partner while investigating one of his operations. During that time, he decided that I was his 'perfect one' which is why he was hitting on me."   
  
Smiling faintly, Tsuzuki raised his hands up, showing his empty palms to the assassins. "There is more, but there is a lot of other stuff we have to tell you first before so you can understand what had happened to you three nights ago. And what you have all become because of that. No, Muraki isn't from EnmaCho's Shoka Division of the Summoner's Office. He's someone that makes our jobs a lot harder than they should be. Can we find a place to sit down and talk to you four easier? Standing in the hallway isn't the easiest way to hold this kind of conversation."   
  
The change in Hisoka's manner at the mention of Muraki was similarly noticed and noted by Omi, who took care not to stare at the youth despite his curiosity to the change. Some people did not take well to being observed in moments of rage or upset, and he felt it best to not antagonise the strange youth. They knew too little about the newcomers to do much more than listen and step carefully with their words. It was no simple matter for someone to sneak into Koneko with such ease, and that alone demanded the caution of Weiß in return.   
  
Catching Tsuzuki's suggestion to move elsewhere, he turned his sapphire eyes to the older of the two Shinigami, curiosity flickering clearly in the deep blue pools. Clearly this Muraki person was no to be associated with, if one were to believe the words. If the two before Weiß turned out to be respectable, he would heed their warnings about the doctor, but not slow in looking for more information. Perhaps there was some key or plot involving the triad that he could not yet fathom. Unlikely, certainly, but as manager of assassins, Omi knew it was better to be safe than sorry, even if that bordered him on occasional paranoia.   
  
"There's a small meeting area on the next level down," he said in reply to the suggestion, moving from his position in the doorway and making his way to the stairs. Still carrying the gun, he made certain he was kept out of Tsuzuki's easy reach as he passed the brunet. There was no need to provide him with a simple weapon. "We can discuss your mission there."   
  
Turning his attention to the stairs, and trusting the other three assassins with his life - or rather, half-life as it stood now - Omi descended the steps. As he walked he considered where the two claimed to be from, and where or how that linked them to Weiß. "Is this Summoner's Division a part of a larger organisation?" he asked back to the other. There was the faint possibility that Kritiker was somehow involved with that EnmaCho's Shoka Division, something he intended to confirm as truth or no.   
  
Tsuzuki's casual handling of the mention of Muraki was far from mirrored in his younger partner, who's fingers had tightened into a fist with enough pressure to turn his knuckles a ghostly white. Tsuzuki had been somewhat off in his assumption of the youth's reaction; at the moment, Hisoka had no intention of going after Muraki, not when the doctor had the upper hand of information and timing. Well, not yet at the moment. To turn around and disappear now, when they had Weiß accepting at least of their presence long enough to explain themselves, would be to let down the division of Shinigami. Hisoka could not afford to fail in their eyes, the position they had allowed him gave him the grounds he needed to stand up to Muraki, instead of being just a puppet cursed in death by him.   
  
Later, once the suspicious he felt in the minds of the others were quieted, he might go for a midnight walk to learn more of the doctor, but only then. And only once he had his gun back and, perhaps, had experienced a sudden lack of sanity. Hisoka was learning in the hardest fashion that he rarely ever found Muraki, but that Muraki often found him. If he were to kill the doctor, it would be best to wait until the man wanted to be found. That wouldn't stop him from searching about for information, but would calm his anger for a bit, soothing it until there were true reason to be in upset.   
  
But, there were matters to attend to first.   
  
Sensing first the youngest of the assassin's determination to move to another room, Hisoka looked over to the honey-haired one. The look the other had given him was missed, as his own in return seemed to have been neglected as the sapphire-eyed one started down the stairs. With his gun, for that matter. Hisoka was beginning to regret ever giving it up, since getting it back was looking to be a difficult task upcoming.   
  
Ready to move after him so that their business with the newly dead would be completed, Hisoka caught the attention of another on him. Turning jade eyes to the side, he caught the redhead looking at him, the curiosity in the other's sense of mind inciting a defensive mood in his own. Arching a brow at the look, he straightened and loosened his deathly grip on nothing, so that his hands could fall relaxed again. It was a typical, childish reaction to scrutiny, one he'd always had; act tough and people won't stare.   
  
Starting after Omi, he paused beside Ran for a moment. "You can bet that bastard was doing more than just hitting on Tsuzuki outside," he said, his voice nearly a low growl at even referring to Muraki. Almost unconsciously his hand rose, rubbing the length of his forearm, the feeling of the curse marks underneath the clothing still burning from the departed presence of Muraki. "He'll be back... he always is." With that, he moved forwards again to follow Omi down to the area they could speak more freely, and comfortably, in.   
  
Ken felt a nudge from his friend as he moved forward toward the stairwell following after the other. He arched a brow as he caught Youji's smirk and nod toward the stairs. "No."   
  
"Come on. You do it at least once a week."   
  
"I know but -"   
  
"But schmut. Just because we've got... company you're gonna wuss out? You're due and you know you wanna..."   
  
"Youuuuuji...." Ken rolled his eyes whimpering softly in protest. He was caving, or was about to. He knew it.   
  
"5000 yen."   
  
"You are _so_ on!" Grinning widely Ken took a few paces back and started to sprint toward the stairs. At the last minute he hopped up on the stair railing and in a surfer position slid down it. He sailed effortlessly down the first half of stairs shouting "Heads up." To make sure no one got in his way down it or at the bottom. Just before the stairs turned the first landing, he jumped again and turned to go down the last of the stairs which were turned in the opposite direction than the prior once. Upon reaching he end rather than leaping, he did a somersault and landed perfectly.   
  
"Transition could use some work." Youji grinned as he peered down from the upper level and began his own decent down the stairs.   
  
"I'd like to see you try that."   
  
"I'm not a dumb ass with a death wish."   
  
"You only wish you were like me instead of some foppish pretty boy."   
  
Youji made a face and harrumphed softly as he flung his arm over Omi's shoulders and accompanied him down.   
  
Watching the others head down to the living room on the lower floor, Ran just nodded faintly to the blonde's words not quite sure what exactly to say to that. Nice thing about being the silent one. No one expected a response most times. The information about Muraki from the two was interesting to say the least. Far more would have to be found on this Muraki as soon as they could get Omi to work on looking for information in the way that he excelled at. The redhead felt he was pretty safe to assume that the youngest of Weiß would be soon hacking information about the doctor, none of them about to solely take the pair's words about him. There were only four souls in this world Fujimiya Ran trusted... the other three of Weiß and his sister. Perhaps in time the two from this Summoner's Office would gain that trust he was quite stingy with, but it would be difficult. And a very lengthy quest to get it. He hadn't just given it to Omi, Youji, and Ken. They'd earned it.   
  
Ran reached over and closed and locked the unbroken door to the stairwell to the roof as the other two of Weiß with him bickered about whether or not Ken was going to do... whatever it was he was going to do. Blinking as he saw the brunette just sprint off and jump, the slide skid of the soles of his running shoes on the banister echoing up the stairwell, Ran shook his head faintly and headed down. Finally, a bit of normalcy to the evening. As strange as it was that interaction such as that between the two was normal in this house.   
  
  
  
**Footnotes:**   
  
Part four of eight up and ready to read. ^^ I'm too lazy to edit parts five through eight at the moment, and too busy writing my parts of the next arc. Expect a new chapter by Saturday, which is my first day off this week; i'll have time to edit then.   
  
By the way, the person talking in these footnotes is me, Sky. ^^;; Just in case you wanted to know.   
  
Read our ff.net profile for information about who we are and what AM is. 


	5. Part Five

**Disclaimer:** You're making us repeat ourselves again? Well... =P Yami and Weiß belong to smart, creative, intelligent people. We are yaoi fangirls, we do not own them. All we do is write fanfics, so please let us continue our non-owning worship and don't sue us.   
  
**Angra Mainyu**   
  
_Arc One - Arrival - Part Five_   
  
----------------------------   
  
Pressing his lips together in thought, Brad flipped his cell phone closed and removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers as he thought. Every step that Schwarz took now could either mean the end of their plans or the beginning of the anarchy they had striven so hard to achieve. Their futures laid scattered about in a fall of shredded glass, but he had the tools and the mind to pull them back together while the others had their own skills to hold everything back into place. His only worry still was that of Muraki. Either he would prove useful or he will prove to another one like the Elders were, just using them like breathing dolls.   
  
And Crawford was tired of being nothing more than a tool.   
  
"Farfarello, inform the others that we are going to have a visitor soon," he said, replacing his glasses, his eyes opening to look at the Irishman.   
  
Tilting his head to the side, the albino looked slyly out of the corner of his single brandy coloured eye. A dark smirk crossed his features before the man unfolded his long limbs, standing upright and stalking out of the room, pausing to bang a hand against the door of their demon's door.   
  
"We have a guest coming, Demonchild," he hissed as he passed, continuing on his way to tell Nagi then Schuldig if he was still in.   
  
As soon as Farfarello slapped his palm on the door and hissed, the door opened and Schwarz's little demon stood there in a form fitting white dress that flowed about the lithe form like water, showing off the feminine charms the host body had graced her with. Whether she had just been near the door when he knocked in his harsh manner or if she could just move that quickly was really an unknown. "I do find it morbidly amusing you refer to me as 'child', you who calls yourself by the name of a demon. I am older than any creation you have heard of," she said smugly even as she turned to go down the hallway, her voice indeed carrying a timeless quality in the soft bell like tones.   
  
She walked without any fear of having her back to Farfarello, the human dismissed from thought as she moved to the living room. Though they were extremely powerful for having been born mortal, they posed no threat to her. She'd given them their immortality, she could take it away. Well no not really but she had some tricks up her sleeve that would make her quite a formidable opponent if they ever chose to face her down if her use to them was ever gone. She had no intentions of returning to whence she came. And especially not at their hands. As they wished to not be used as toys, so did she.   
  
Walking into the living room where Farfarello had killed Schuldig's guest, Aya sighed and just closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling. The man may have cleaned the traces of blood so well that even the coppery hint of it didn't hang in the air, but none would be able to rid the room of the aura now about it. It was thick in the air she could nearly taste it. The feel of fear and cruelty, humiliation and loss, destruction... It was invigorating, a dark energy that fuelled what she needed to live, to a creature straight from the dark pits of hell at least.   
  
Crawford being in the room was pretty much ignored and the girl tilted her head, long hair in two thick plaits over her shoulders swinging slightly with the motion. Why she kept the full appearance of the sweet young Aya-chan to the tiniest detail she was unsure of at the moment, but the juxtaposition of fresh innocence to the inhuman evil within was amusing in its own dark way. Walking into the room she almost seemed to glide to the window, looking down to the street below. Though the street was nearly forty stories down, she could see it perfectly, down to an insect crawling along the sidewalk, so Muraki standing in his flowing white robes was easily spotted. Aya just stayed there at the window silently, looking down at the silver eyed male with her own dark nearly hypnotic eyes.   
  
Staring out over the city nightscape, Schuldig rested comfortably against the railing, still coming down from the evening's little venture. One would have had to have been blind to miss the look Farfarello had given the doomed girl when he'd brought her in, and the redhead knew that when he set her loose the white-haired man would take his turn with her. Her mental screams and cries and projected fears had been as pleasurable to listen to as the blow job she had given had been.   
  
What a great tension reliever the evening had been.   
  
Flicking his cigarette butt out over the balcony, Schuldig lazily drew away from the cooler air and retreated back inside. The undone shirt was redone and tucked back in his pants, the pants themselves refastened. Wouldn't do to appear in front of Aya-chan all dishevelled. Schuldig could be a gentleman when he so chose to be.   
  
_//Did you have fun?//_ he sent to Farfarello as he emerged from his bedroom, brushing stray strands of fiery hair from his face. _//I thought it would be courteous of me to share.//_ An appreciative glance was spared for Aya-chan as Schuldig moved to sit on a couch, but nothing more. While the girl child buried deep within her own body was beautiful, Schuldig knew better than to mess with a demon. He still shuddered, days later, when he recalled what had happened to Sakura and poor saps unfortunate enough to be left behind in the temple when the chaos had broken free.   
  
Yes, he liked his body the way it was, thank you very much. Intact.   
  
"So," he drawled, watching Crawford from his perch on the sofa. "Why have I been summoned forth from my lair?" Emerald green eyes twinkled with amusement and a flash of that cocky grin that he knew irritated the American spread across Schuldig's lips as he waited for an answer he already knew.   
  
Continuing to stare down, the demoness narrowed her eyes and just left her gaze on the man in the white robes which seemed to glow about him in the red tinged moonlight. There was something about him... he hardly seemed like all the other inhabitants of this city. In a similar way that the others in the room with her and herself were hardly what they seemed. "I do believe our visitor is here," she said smoothly, turning her head slightly to the side, her profile lit by the window's illumination. Tilting her head more, her dark eyes glanced over to Crawford and Schuldig. "Shall we be kind hosts and let him in?"   
  
Schuldig almost opened his mouth to say no, he didn't feel like being kind, but quickly discarded that idea. No need to piss the demon off right from the start. That could be very bad for him in the future.   
  
The redhead did have sense after all.   
  
He leaned against the window next to the demoness and took a good look at their 'guest'   
  
"Right," he winked at Aya-chan before getting that far off look in his eyes. Time to get down to business. Inserting himself carefully into the consciousness off the security personal of the building, Schuldig went about 'informing' them that 'this' man..showed them an image of Muraki... was to be admitted into the building and showed straight to the penthouse. Very important. Wouldn't want to upset anyone by delaying him. That could be a...painful mistake.   
  
When done, he slowly withdrew, but not before suggesting that later on they all needed to visit the voluptuous woman who lived on the second floor and strip search her for possible drugs. Thoroughly.   
  
Schuldig chuckled to himself and refocused on Aya-chan. "Done."   
  
--   
  
Lengths of white cloth settled about him as he stilled his motion, the feeling of his observation being returned bringing Muraki's attention further to the many floors above. While his human sight was poor beyond a hundred feet, the mechanisms powering his right eyes were much more powerful, enough for him to observe many stories into the sky. Not enough to see anything of interest, unfortunately, but enough to know that there was a figure of sorts countless floors above. Even without visual confirmation, the doctor could feel the power of that gaze. Power and curiosity, he assumed; no doubt it was the creature summoned through the portal. Interesting that it was conscious and attentive to his arrival, even if it was passing interest fuelling it. Perhaps the demon had more worth than he had originally presumed.   
  
Of course, originally he had laid out the foundation and clues for a relatively lower level demon to be pulled forth from Hell. This one carried an interesting taint of magic beyond that, or so the feeling along the back of his neck spoke of. It would be interesting to meet the creature in person and see if they could match up to his mind and ability. Interesting, but hardly a priority.   
  
Turning his silver gaze back to the street about him, a moment's pause given to readjust the focus of his unnatural eye to the sudden close nature of their surroundings, Muraki started towards the building. Met by a security just within, he noted, with curiosity, the way the man had been standing with a near distraction about him, as though the power of suggestion was being worked upon him. Perhaps the influence of the German, which his notes suggested the power of telepathy. Then again, it could have been thoughts of the end of shift or an upcoming vacation that had driven the man to slight distraction; his assumption could easily have been wrong. It was an acceptable fact of life; Muraki could not be correct one hundred percent of the time. It was his job, as a doctor, to assume through clues and then confirm. Observe the symptoms and names the disease, so to speak.   
  
Holding aside the man's distraction, Muraki spoke with him for a few minutes, explaining his purpose to visit some friends in the penthouse. It was a certain level of pleasant surprise that he felt when he was informed of being expected and that he would be escorted straight up. Clearly, his little puppets were indeed aware of more than he had given credit to; that would prove useful to master in the future. Contemplating the benefits of that quick awareness, Muraki silently followed the security guard to the elevator.   
  
Once inside, with the doors slid shut to hide him from prying eyes, Muraki let a smile touch his features. Hardly genki in any form, it was the look of a man who was about to reap the benefits of a harvest well-planted and tended.   
  
--   
  
Making no move save to let the newly made Shinigami move ahead of him, Tsuzuki turned his head to watch his partner move down the stairs. Seeing the slight movement his partner made, a frown appeared on his normally happy face, violet eyes narrowing slightly. Tsuzuki never denied that his feelings concerning Muraki were mixed. The doctor had been there when he first managed to find death and he had nearly gotten him to throw himself into the flames again. There was a fear, of what Muraki would do to him, but there was also anger for what he done to countless numbers of people including himself and Hisoka.   
  
And what he still did to Hisoka even with his presence, the curse marks burning even now whenever the doctor was near.   
  
Falling into step next to Hisoka, Tsuzuki placed a hand lightly on his shoulder in comfort, giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze before dropping his hand. He knew that the younger Shinigami did not liked to be touched, and he did not want the blond to feel worse than he already was.   
  
Raising an eyebrow as Ken went sliding down the railing, Tsuzuki thought not for the first time that they were going to have their hands full. Four new Shinigami, Muraki and a demon would definitely test them and maybe bring out more of their own past demons. He wasn't sure how much Hisoka knew about his past, but it wasn't very pleasant. But neither was his.   
  
"Well, in a way we are," Tsuzuki said with a shrug as he followed the others, keeping close to Hisoka. "There's at least ten branches to the Summoner's Office alone."   
  
Clear blue eyes blinked as an arm fell across his shoulders, Omi glancing to the side to see Youji there and as careless as ever. Giving his friend a light poke in the side, the youth otherwise left the arm unnoticed, simply continuing down the stairs with the elder pacing him. One could simply not stop Youji from doing as he pleased about people - in that sense at least - and it was just better to let him be rather than try and duck away and endure the torment (and return some) that the supposed shyness would incite. Of course, there were times that it was great fun to do that, and then attempt to tease the other though his teasing, but now was not the time.   
  
Reaching the bottom of the stairs at a far slower rate - read: not breakneck speed - than Ken, Omi finally shrugged his shoulders free of Youji and turned to watch the two visitors as they reached the end of the steps. Thankfully the stairwell opened into the meeting/living area, with the kitchen and other rooms branching off it, so they did not have to move much further to have a seat. To which Omi set an example, claiming the arm of a reclining chair as his spot.   
  
Throughout all that, the gun remained in his hands. Even in his impromptu seat, Omi kept it on his lap, a hand covering it to decline any thoughts of retrieving it. Untrusting of people? That was hardly something that could be applied to Omi. In fact, out of the four assassins, he often came up as the more trusting one - Ken, of course, sometimes paralleled or beat him in that - and was likely the one offering the visitors the greatest benefit of the doubt. Such that they could argue their case, of course.   
  
"And what does this Summoner's Division, who has so many branches, want with four flower shop attendants?" he asked carefully, considering the answers offered so far. Clearly it was another organisation facing them, but the question of their intent was unknown, and what they wanted with Weiß. Perhaps they shared a goal with Este and would have to be carefully dealt with. Or, perhaps, somehow they knew of Kritiker and was searching for support from the agents therein. Whichever it was, the answer was key and needed before much more could be said.   
  
For one of the rare times in his life - or death - Hisoka allowed the brief contact between himself and Tsuzuki. Of all the people he knew, the youth was only comfortable with a few, and contact therein was generally scarce. With his empathy, he could synchronise too easily with people, something that was compounded by contact. Tsuzuki had learned the hard way how adamant Hisoka could be about his solitude in touch, especially when struck by the mind of another. Still, a rare sort of trust was laid in the older Shinigami, one that allowed their contact - perhaps also helped by the suggestion of emotion he had so deeply displayed within the first of the gods. And that light touch therein was enough to draw his attention away from Muraki long enough to deal with the mission he had been given: Explain to the new Shinigami what they were.   
  
Following the others to the lower floor, Hisoka slipped his hands in his jean pockets again, adopting his habitual careless slouch as he listened to the youngest of them - still his elder by at least a year, of all luck - as he asked about the Summoner's Division's interest in them.   
  
"Look, we're not going to lie to you," he said coolly, "so don't lie to us. The Summoner's Division is aware of your status as hired killers and your employ with the organisation Kritiker. And we are not here to contract you on a kill or anything like that, so don't go making stupid assumptions."   
  
Hisoka, clearly, had endless levels of tact.   
  
Resisting the urge to sigh in frustration of their possible stupidity, Hisoka having no faith in the intelligence of some, he watched the others carefully with jade eyes. "The Summoner's Division deals with deaths," he said simply. "Unnatural, paranormal, freakish; whatever you want to call it, they deal with the unknown and suspicious causes of deaths. Vampire-like cases, underground human organ transplanting groups, and cases where the victim looks to have been killed by the hands of a demon. If it's unnatural, they look into it.   
  
"The agents of the Summoner's Division are Shinigami. There's only one way to become a Shinigami, and that is to die in a fashion where your spirit and soul wander lost with unfulfilled purpose. When that happens, you are brought to Hades and the Summoner's Division becomes your employer. It's not very common to get new Shinigami at a high rate; usually the victims of brutality and murder on the worst scale are the sort that arrive." Pausing, he freed his hands again, crossing them over his chest unconsciously; another attempt to hide the already concealed red marks that had brought about his own painful death. "People with a motivation to make right what was wronged to them, that's what Shinigami are." Or the motivation to find their killer and know what was done to them...   
  
Again the youth paused, attempting to word the next statement without stepping on Tsuzuki's privacy, or his own. "Tsuzuki and I are Shinigami of the EnmaCho's Shoka Division. Tsuzuki's been working with them for seventy years, I've only worked for about a year. Both of us began our work with them shortly after our own deaths. We've investigated everything, from human cloning to a demon's contract with a violinist, and now we've been reassigned to Tokyo for a new mission."   
  
And now came the fun part: Explaining their current situation. Hisoka settled on the simple and blunt solution, figuring that the assassins would be able to realise what he was meaning with his words. "We've been sent here to investigate the summoning of two demons within this city and to find the four new Shinigami of the EnmaCho's Shoka Division. Those four Shinigami are you four assassins."   
  
At that, Hisoka stopped. He was not the talkative type on any level, and the past few minutes had just worn out his want to speak for a while. He hoped that the words would be enough to inform Weiß that, yes, they were dead. If they couldn't figure that out, he would declare them officially stupid.   
  
Meanwhile, the jade-eyed youth drew in a slow breath, keeping close to Tsuzuki in case one of the four had an adverse reaction to the explanation. The matter of possible physical harm in that was dismissed, it was the emotional damage that he was worried, even slightly, about. Proximity to Tsuzuki would allow him to cling to the adjusted sense of mind, rather than the easily overpowering feel of four minds dealing with the information of their deaths.   
  
"So... we're dead." That was about all he managed to figure out in the teens diatribe. Dark brows furrowed in disappointment, mouth opening to ask mire before he was interrupted. On cue.   
  
"Well doesn't just that suck." Sprawled as he was on the love seat, Youji had opted to start smocking his cigarette when something dawned on him. "Ha! Ken! You owe me a million yen! You bet me that these would be the death of me." Youji grinned flicking the cigarette at Ken.   
  
The male squeaked as the lit projectile landed in his lap. "Eh... screw off. I ain't payin' ya nothing. Dead people don't have money." Ken glanced over at the two Shinigami. "Or do we? So... how did we die, because. I really don't remember."   
  
Pfting into the air as he reached for another cigarette safe in the knowledge he'd never die from them. (That was truly the best part about finding out he was dead.) He enlightened for the soccer player what he and doubtless the other two had figured out. "We failed the mission, Siberian. Birman told us when we first signed up. Go against Persia, or fail a mission we'd be out. This is what she meant. I don't remember much of it either other than it was insanely fast, but... seems like if they're here," He pointed to their visitors, "And we're dead. Este some how won."   
  
Leaning against the doorframe they'd all just exited through, Ran just stared at the Shinigami telling them what had happened, the blips and bits of painful memories of the ritual coming together in the full scheme of what he'd seen and how he'd died. So he was dead... so they were all dead... He squeezed his eyes shut, blaming himself for all of their deaths and whatever situation they were now in. It had been his sister they'd all gone to save, not even needing an official mission from Kritiker to do so.   
  
His sister...   
  
Cool violet eyes opened once more, glancing at his teammates before fixing his gaze on Hisoka once more. He'd... said two demon summoning. They'd been killed by one. Everyone had been killed by one.   
  
No. Not everyone...   
  
His eyes widened slightly as he started trying to place where everyone had been in the ritual and came up with a few missing persons. And one fact of the matter that he did know just made his stomach tighten into a hot knot so fast he thought he would wretch, but he kept up his perfect composure. Even at being told he was dead. His concern wasn't for himself right now. He was obviously fine.. as fine as anyone dead could be, as well as each member of his team. But his sister... and Sakura...   
  
Which one had it been? The out lash of destruction and chaos had killed the young form holding the demon that destroyed Weiß...   
  
Clearing his throat, he waited until he felt his voice was even before speaking. "Was the second summoning as... disastrous as the first... And which demon summoning did we see. Who was the host..." He honestly wasn't sure which answer he wanted to hear on which of the dark haired girls who could pose as twins had been the cause of their death, and which was still out there somewhere. Because there had been a second ritual... and there were only a certain four people who could have done that... who'd been in possession of both girls at one time.   
  
Raising an eyebrow at the two assassins as they spoke, Tsuzuki remained standing, a solid presence besides the smaller form of the younger Shinigami. As Hisoka explained what happened in his blunt manner, he looked over the four new Shinigami, trying to determine if there was any memories of their deaths. The redhead's trouble expression underneath the mask of indifference and his hesitant words showed that at least one of them remembered.   
  
Reaching into the inside pocket of his overcoat, Tsuzuki pulled out a folder stuffed with photocopies of official records from that night. The candy store hadn't been his only stop before coming to the Koneko; Tsuzuki had made sure that he had the facts of the evening on him just in case they got confused or needed something official looking to back up their claims. And since that night was a mess to sort out at the home office, he'd figured that not even the four newly made Shinigami would know everything. Flipping it open he paged through the various notes until he found the list of deceased.   
  
"According to all the evidence, there were two unfortunate recipients of demons, one of which brought the temple completely down," Tsuzuki said, tapping the names with one finger. "It's believed that two hosts have still survived, though finding them is going to be hard."   
  
Flipping to another page, he frowned faintly and handed it to Hisoka to read. It was a report about the energies of the two demons that were summoned that night from Watari's readings and the possible rank they might have been. All in all it was not good news, especially in a city of this size. Like trying to find two needles among a bunch of similar needles.   
  
"That is the second purpose of us being here, outside of training you four in your newly awakened abilities as Shinigami. We have to find them and send the demons back where they belong."   
  
Even keeping close to Tsuzuki had not prepared Hisoka with what was, essentially, an attack from behind. When they had settled to explain their purpose, choosing a standing location jut inside the room, the jade-eyed youth had not quite considered that one of the assassins would remain in the doorway. Effectively, it was behind his line of sight and preparation. Thus, when the news sunk into the mind of the redhead, the sudden change of mind was unexpected - despite his obvious attempt to prepare for any emotional assault.   
  
First he felt the surprise of the information, no matter how slight. The same feeling from the other three was dealt with, this one lesser yet still present; it worked through his defences, which were set in a more forward, attentive sense. His empathy was not selective as to who it allowed to influence him, it worked with whatever managed to escape his attention to defence. Admittedly, that was sometimes a simple matter to defeat, but he did have a certain negation ability. With the fourth mind, though, it was absent, allowing that surprise to push him off balance enough that the memories Ran was experiencing were quickly played through his mind. It was a clear as though they were linked, the most vivid example of his ability to 'synchronise' with someone as he willed - though it often preferred to take him without control.   
  
_// Going into the mission alone had been an emotional hell... Knowing that all of the odds were against them and there would be hundreds or thousands of psi powered Este agents there, watching this ancient age old ritual they all had complete faith in and would do everything in their power to not see stopped. Everything lay on the shoulders of four mortals with an assortment of weapons... and they knew it. The fate of Ran's sister who he'd just always longed to protect, as well as an innocent girl drawn into this too deeply. Two they'd already failed by allowing Schwarz to get their hands on them. He never even asked his team to go... they'd had the mission to kill the Elders at the airport and had failed. That had been the last mission given. They simply went... all seeming to have undying faith that somehow if Ran was with them, everything would be fine. As it had been when he'd gone and rescued them against the Special Forces. They were the good guys. They were supposed to win. //_   
  
For a moment, Hisoka's eyes merely dropped out of focus, the young Shinigami seeming to no longer have his mind in the present. In a sense, that was true; his entire being was deeply wrapped up in the memories of the redhead. The present no longer mattered, merely the past of the mind. It was so hopeful seeming, that perhaps victory was theirs to achieve...   
  
_// And he partly believed that. And that small fragile hope had been crushed nearly as soon as they entered the temple. //_   
  
Without any attention being paid to him, few would have noticed the sudden falter in the youth's breathing, the slight tense nature that took to his shoulders as the notion of success faded. Of course they could not face the enemy, the sheer numbers present, the girl being host to the creature. It was lunacy, but still they had to. They had to find his sister.   
  
_// Using the building layout plans that they'd obtained, the four had been able to make their way through the temple without being caught by the guards, taking out the few that stood in their way and gaining more information about the details of what was going on. But as they got to the arena where the Elders were with the host body, laid out on a stone altar, it was already too late. The low arcane chanting of the ritual was still echoing in the large chamber as the dark haired girl in the white flowing dress sat up, opening her eyes which were a slitted yellow like a cat's as the demon called forth settled in the body. Everyone thought it was all going perfectly until the girl's lips parted in a low shrieking scream and her clawed hand reached out to grab the nearest Elder, his spectacles dropping to the floor as blood coated down the pure white dress and down the delicate chin of the girl's body, her fingers crushing the man's skull and dropping him to the floor. The demon wanted a little snack of carnage and destruction and blood before its full power unleashed. The next Elder as she tried to run was pulled to the girl's fragile seeming grip, more blood running, the screams of pain and evil laughing barely audible as a loud howl of the agony of hell swirled about the chamber from the open portal to the hell realm, fuelling the chaos as a vacuum seemed to be created from it, drying to draw in all the life from the living realm. Ran could only stare in horror, his katana still in his hand but utterly useless against it all. All he knew was failure and self loathing as he watched what looked to be his sister in the middle of a massacre, her pale flesh and face streaked in blood, the red fluids staining her mouth, but the demon was hardly done. It wanted more... it wanted more death. //_   
  
Tsuzuki's words of explanation were lost to Hisoka, a bead of sweat marking the youth's brow as his fingers closed involuntarily on the paper placed in his hand. To him it was not a simple sheet of information, but the same katana that was being held in Ran's grasp, or rather his now. The faint whisper of his sister's name escaped his lips, jade eyes closing as though to stop the onslaught of the demon nightmare. His free hand rose to clutch at his chest, the emotion of being useless, a failure in the midst of chaos, trying to consume him.   
  
_// Having the fuel it needed from the corrupt souls of the Elders which had called it forth, all three of their bodies dead at its feet in mangled messes of blood, the garnered energy from the telekinetic Elder now flowed through the demon's form, just for now or permanently was really an unknown. It hardly mattered to those watching. Shudders started to move through the chamber, causing marble to break from the columns and bar off all of the exits, the demon wishing for none who entered to ever escape the pit of hell this temple was now. The howling shrieks of wind that were oddly unfelt still ripped through the chamber as all was lost and the pillars started to fall in. A crushing pain on his spine was the last physical pain which the redhead of Weiß felt as everything started to go black, still hearing the sweet tones of the girl shriek in evil giggles and cackles, and all he knew was failure... everyone who'd ever meant anything was dead... simply because of him. And he's broken his promise to always protect his sister... and those who'd so selflessly helped him find her... //_   
  
Breathing heavily now, his will bound with Ran's mind for the interim, Hisoka's entire form trembled. The paper in his hand shifted with his fingers, opening a few small paper cuts that healed over just as quickly, despite the pressure of his grip. His body shook with the floor of the temple, his balance lost as he stumbled back a pace, and then another. It was all he could do to keep on his feet, or so all his sync-consumed senses were telling him. A sharp gasp broke the uneven breathing as the pain of Ran's injury ran like fire through his body. It hurt; gods it hurt, like his body had been crushed or torn in two. He couldn't tell though, there was too much darkness around; all he knew was that it hurt. Gods, the pain...   
  
_// And then there was black. //_   
  
The air he had been breathing caught in his throat, green eyes opening again with a look of shock as the feel of the other's mind finally grew separate from his own again. Unsteady on his feet, Hisoka barely managed to turn enough to stare at Ran, the horror of their shared vision still haunting his eyes. It was the price of his empathy; the strongest visions claimed his mind, and his energy. As enlightening as they were on occasion, their toll was more than sufficient. And it with the vivid nature of Ran's recollection, Hisoka hardly stood a chance; it was impossible to withstand the death of another. With the memory of death, he 'died' as well, though far more temporary than the other's had been - it was more like falling to sleep suddenly and unintentionally. Then, as he had just relived through Ran's mind, the darkness consumed him as his body fell to the ground.   
  
  
  
**Footnotes:**   
  
And the posting of this chapter is on time. Hope you enjoyed. As per usual, reviews and comments are appreciated.   
  
Read our ff.net profile for information about who we are and what AM is. 


	6. Part Six

**Disclaimer:** Someone else owns them, we do not. All we have is a little grey kitten, who's not even an assassin. How cruel is nature to us? ;-;   
  
**Angra Mainyu**   
  
_Arc One - Arrival - Part Six_   
  
----------------------------   
  
They were dead?   
  
Cursed - or was that blessed? - by a certain ability to simply wipe all trauma from his mind, something that his death and the Summoner's Division protection of him after it worked well with, Omi was not as 'fortunate' as the others to have even the slightest flashback of the ritual. In his dreams, yes, he had been recalling odd moments and cherry blossoms, but for the most part he had only a very expansive black and blank stretch of memory that was the mission they had gone on. Had it not been for the others speaking of it the next day, Omi would have likely gone on without the memory of that failed memory.   
  
Lost as he was, Omi did not just accept the matter as it was, his mind working logically at explaining their supposed deaths away as anything but. Even with the explanation, it didn't just fall into sense as to how they were dead or alive. Honestly, without proof he wasn't quite sure what to think. Death would, perhaps, be a suitable explanation for a large chunk of his memories missing; but to die and still be alive? That was unreal. Wasn't it?   
  
"We're dead?" he repeated, disbelief tainting the edge of his words.   
  
Further questions about how that was possible, or for proof of their death - and subsequent new lives - found themselves stilled in his throat as the younger of the visitors stumbled back. Soft blue eyes quickly shifted their attention to the other blonde, concern filtering into the sky-like irises. Years of training and wariness held him from immediately moving to the other's side for assistance, but he did stand up, putting the gun he'd been holding onto the arm of the chair.   
  
"Is he okay?" he asked, flickering his gaze to Tsuzuki as well. "What's going on? What happened?"   
  
A puzzled glance was given to Hisoka as Watari's meticulous notes were crumbled in his hand. Shock then understanding crossed Tsuzuki's face, the older Shinigami dropping the folder to wrap his arms around his smaller partner, cradling his unconscious form before he fell to the ground. Looking around, he spotted an unused couch and walked over to it, being careful of the slender blond in his arms. Laying him down on the couch, Tsuzuki smooth back his hair from Hisoka's face, his touch feather light. Then remembering the others in the room, he took a seat on the floor by the couch, taking Hisoka's hand in his and rubbing the back in soft circles to calm him out of his unconscious state.   
  
"He'll be fine," Tsuzuki said, the worry chased out of his amethyst eyes, having an idea of what may have happened. "Hisoka has empathic abilities. He normally is able to filter out unwanted emotions but strong ones, like anger or fear can send him for a loop. I am guessing that one of you remember that night and he just experienced it with you. He should come out of it soon."   
  
Looking up at Omi, Tsuzuki nodded, resting his back against the couch, folding his legs underneath him to rest comfortably. "You are dead, in a way. Shinigami are people who have unfinished business with the living which allows them to travel between the two worlds and interact among the living in order to follow their investigations. But, everyone that knew you believes you are dead. Or they soon will do so. It's for your protection as well as theirs, I guess the same way things changed for you four when you joined Kritiker. And as soon as you start training, you'll be given places to stay and yes, you do get paid as Shinigami unless you do something stupid like well, tear down the Libraries twice."   
  
Fighting down the colour on his fair skin as he remembered exactly why he was still a lowly Shinigami even though he was one of the most powerful out there. And why he never was able to go on paid vacations or get bonuses like the other Shinigami could. But it was his own stupid fault really. He should have gotten that guy the first time around instead of having to try for him twice.   
  
With everyone seeming to confirm the statement that they were dead, Ken fell into a quiet daze trying to remember it.   
  
Death...   
  
Dead...   
  
Blood. Mangled severed limbs. Corpses all around as far as he could see in the dim light.   
  
The bodies of his teammates who'd fallen mere moments before him. Dead. Ripped apart, crushed beyond all recognition save for their clothing.   
  
He was alone. They were dead.   
  
And he was standing face to face with the demon who'd done it. Sakura or not he was going to destroy that thing even if he died trying.   
  
And die he had. Filled with the pain anger and loss of the only family he had, rage and passion and thirst for this demon's blood fuelling his energy, he'd leapt into the air ready to take the head of the beast, or gut it. His purpose had been to obliterate.   
  
In the end it had been futile. The last thing he remembered was an excruciating pain as is body seemed to implode beneath his skin and before he had a chance to scream...   
  
He was dead.   
  
With the memory of his death returning, a crazed look flit though his sea-kissed eyes, darkening them with hate and malice. Those very same eyes fixed themselves upon Aya. An angry snarl distorted his lips and before he could stop himself he found himself lunging toward the redhead fist at the ready. "YOU BASTARD! We're dead... because of you... because we wanted to rescue YOUR sister. We failed to bring your sister. We failed to rescue Sakura and because of you there's a demon running rampant in Tokyo and we're fucking dead!"   
  
Distracted from peering in mild confusion at Hisoka, remembering the look the boy had given him and feeling a bit guilty that his vivid recollection had been the cause of that for-the-moment shared pain, Ran glanced up as he heard the heavy quick footfalls. Not even blinking as Ken barrelled towards him in a very physical form of anger directed at him and loathing, the man dropped his katana before instincts could urge him to use it against the one attacking him. Lifting his hand, he caught the man's fist before it could strike his face, for once glad of the practice he had with that against Crawford.   
  
"Face fucking facts, Siberian, we're all dead. We all knew the risks of every single mission we went on, and we knew this one was a suicide run. No one said it but we -knew- it by the few but depressing facts we were given. If you were frightened of the chance of dying you shouldn't have gone. At least we didn't take the coward's way out... even if it didn't do a bit of good." Tightening his fingers on Ken's fist he met eyes with those storming aqua depths before glancing away, pushing the man away from him with his arm. He didn't want the man to see the self loathing and guilt that was barely hidden in his eyes, the man's accusations just darkening those feelings in his irises behind the ice. "You knew the risks. So don't blame me." He did that enough for all of them.   
  
Releasing his teammate's hand, he bent down to pick up his katana and turned to go up the stairs back to their living... ha, living... quarters without another word. One of their 'guides' was unconscious and needed a nap, the other probably thought they were crazy. They were obviously not getting anything else accomplished tonight. He needed time to himself to take all of this in... and get away from them before he did something he would regret. Or just made Ken hate him more than he did already. And he didn't want to look at the other two members of Weiß to see if they blamed him as well, not thinking he could easily handle if the loss and loathing that had been in turquoise eyes was also in the emerald and sapphire, and it was directed at him.   
  
Squeezing the tip of his cigarette with his fingers, Youji deposited it back into his pack before rising to help the fallen Ken up. "I understand why you did it. But it was still a stupid thing to do."   
  
He sighed and bent over to pick up the quivering mass of angry Siberian into his arms. He felt the younger man wriggle in protest but his anger spent and deflated at Aya's words. That much Youji was sure of. His own death... he didn't dwell on. Not really caring to relive it like Aya and Ken obviously had. He turned quietly to Omi and the two Shinigami. "I'm going to take him up to bed. I'll see you all in the morning. If you two don't have any place to go, you're welcome to stay here. Just... ahh... ask Omi." He gave the youth an apologetic smile hating to leave so much to Omi, but no one else seemed to be able to handle Ken when he was like this. He'd hoped someday Aya would be able to... but that didn't seem likely anymore.   
  
Saying little else, Youji followed Aya upstairs and turned toward Ken's room still carrying the trembling brunette in his arms.   
  
--   
  
Rising smoothly from the couch, Brad walked over to the door, mentally counting the seconds to pull open the door for when Muraki arrives. Dark caramel eyes glanced over to Aya with a smug look in them, a smirk touching the corners of his lips. Schwarz has been a team for a long enough time that the members actually anticipate the wishes of each other, knowing what to do for the group as a whole, instead of just plain survival of the individual. That was what made them function in a far more superior manner than the rest of their former employers.   
  
"Schuldig has already taken care of that," he stated with a shrug of powerful shoulders, eyes glancing over to the albino as he slinked back into the room. "Where's Nagi?"   
  
Sinking down into his spot again, Farfarello picked up his knives and secreted them back into their spots against his body, his single eye glancing at Aya before drifting away again. Raising a shoulder at the voice of his leader, he answered blandly, "Sleeping. I thought to let him rest."   
  
Accepting the answer, Brad opened the door, the time just right so that the elevator doors right across from the penthouse door was sliding open as well. Taking in the pristine white outfit, similar in colour as his own business suit, Brad nodded his head in greeting before opening the door fully.   
  
"Welcome, Doctor Muraki. Do come in."   
  
Welcomed by a rather expected conclusion of his appearance in comparison to the expected visitor. Muraki had expected no less of the group, even with the fluctuating views on their abilities that he was forming as their short-lived exposure to one another slowly grew. As with any good, practised surgeon, Muraki was setting nothing in stone - especially not so early into their introductions. Some things in life always changed, and a doctor had to be ready to recognise new symptoms and re-evaluate their original diagnosis if need became; the same sort of thing applied to person-to-person relations.   
  
"Crawford," he acknowledged, needing no words or further clues to associate who the supposed leader of the group was. Of the four of this odd Schwarz group, Crawford was the business man; of him there existed enough evidence of existence for appearance to be a known. Security tapes of high profile clients and their offices, as rare as they could prove, allowed that. Crawford was always there, the negotiator and speaker for the other three. He was already known to Muraki's eyes - it was the other three, and the lovely summoned creature of hell, that he wanted to meet and confirm the identities of.   
  
Stepping into the penthouse, his silver gaze slowly taking in the decorations, forming a slight opinion of the occupants based on the choice and position of furniture - make no mistake, he was hardly an expert in this psychology, he merely made guesses according to experience - Muraki kept a very careful mental file on the group within his mind. "So this is the illustrious home of the summoners of the great creature from beyond," he said smoothly, bringing his slate gaze to rest upon the girl next to the window. "And this young lady must be the host of that power. Such a beautiful body for it, my choice for the spell was founded well."   
  
Thankfully, modesty was never a trait much associated to Muraki.   
  
The demoness just chuckled faintly in response to the leader of Schwarz's little smug smile sent her way. He really was a foolish little human, so smug with his arrogance and confident in his near godly powers. She did find it amusing that even with his all-powerful visions of the future, he hadn't seen that Muraki had been coming and thought to make arrangements to take care of it long in advance. It had been her prompting that their visitor was here that made the telepath take care of things at the very last minute. Sometimes she wondered if he would take credit for things that happened that others did and simply say 'oh, I knew that would be done'. Quaint.   
  
Of course she was a demoness from the very pits of hell and there was very little about humanity that impressed her. Save their abilities to be used, manipulated, led by a string, and destroyed. Brad seemed the type of man who was used to being the manipulator. A light smirk touched on her lips as she eyed him coolly and she then looked away to see their guest as the door opened. Every human really was a bug, and in time, every human had the same fate. To be crushed. Something she really wanted to get started on, soon.   
  
Isn't she just a sweet little being to know.   
  
Raising a slender hand, she twirled the tip of her braid about a finger, staring evenly at the doctor as he entered the penthouse. Still looking at him curiously, she perched herself to sit on the edge of the window. No sweet demure blush of modesty touched her cheeks at his compliment to her form. It fit the purposes, though she was quite fond of the innocent appearance her host body put forth which could have people never expect what was truly there to be there. And who could ever harm or think to be evil such a sweet wide- eyed girl?   
  
"It shall do for the purposes I need," she replied, nodding in faint greeting as she took in the man's appearance. A dark eyebrow crooked at the man's comment and she smiled darkly, deep midnight blue meeting with silver.   
  
This meeting may perhaps be quite intriguing.   
  
"Please make yourself comfortable," Brad told the doctor, closing the door and turning back to the living room. Instead of returning to his seat, the American remained standing, dark eyes flickering to glance around the room at the others before focusing on Muraki.   
  
"Miss Aya does make a good host for our visitor," Brad added, his deep tones sounded faintly amused. Whether it was amusement from the fact that his Weiß counterpart's sister was now their key to their goal or the fact that the demoness felt superior than the rest of the people in the room. Brad was not particularly phased by being looked down by other people, having been looked down all through his life by one group or another. Why would he find one more being's smugness wreck his plans?   
  
"I am afraid that Nagi is unable to join us at the moment. He is sleeping and I do not think that he needs his rest disturbed. Since you know my name, it is reasonable to assume you know the other's names, but you may never have seen them since they tend to stay in the background. Schuldig is the young man setting on the couch, and Farfarello is the one stretched out on the floor."   
  
_//Of course I had fun,//_ Farfarello replied, finally deciding that he could handle replying to the German. His swirling emotions right after a kill were not something for a telepath to delve into too deeply, the mixture of rapture, bloodlust, rage and sadness that always hit him when the last breath escapes the lips of his victim especially strong. It was something that Farfarello felt was completely his own and did not feel that he needed to share it with the German telepath around. _//As you knew I would. She tasted sweet.//_   
  
Tilting his head, he regarded the man Crawford allowed into their suite, his single amber eye showing nothing, no emotion, only a calm, serene acceptance of his presence. No anger, no regret, nothing but a calmness akin to time itself.   
  
"The Demonchild is what it is, only the flesh is different," he stated, his voice soft and as expressionless as his face, his accent muted. "To profess it to be anything other than what its truth is, is to court with disaster."   
  
Amusing.   
  
To be honest, Muraki never tired of the trick he had just used upon the smug American. Feed a human a little bit of information and they would, without fail, provide a wealth of it in reply. It was amusing how quickly they could and would assume the nature of the knowledge their visitor held. In the current case, Muraki had indeed known suggestions of Schwarz's names, but seeing as Crawford was the only prominent dealer, he'd only had haphazard guesses as to the identities of the others. He would have to thank the precognitive male later for clarifying it for him.   
  
"Pleasure to meet you then, Miss Aya," he said, keeping his voice smooth and cool. A slight bow was offered to the female form, respectful tribute to the beauty, and the power hosted within. After which he shifted his gaze to Schuldig. "The mind-reader, I presume," he continued, arching a brow curiously. "Tell me, Schuldig, how deeply can you delve into the mind of another?" Without pause for confirmation, he looked to Farfarello, allowing a simple and unthreatening smile to touch his lips. "And Farfarello. you must not judge so harshly the host of such power. Miss Aya is the reason you have an immortality that even the gods envy; or should, if you listened to a speck of the information I left for you."   
  
Letting the Irishman absorb those words, Muraki directed his attention back to Crawford, noting the man's posture, his tone. Every little thing possible was stored to mind, for later use in his little games. "The time has come where our meeting was inevitable," he spoke up, his smile turning a touch more shadowed as his mind worked on the possibilities of the future. "Our goals may not align right now, but I think we could all benefit from an alliance. Our powers would compliment and further one another on our specific paths."   
  
While seeming to be effecting a bored air about him, Schuldig was indeed paying close attention to everything going about him. He hadn't survived as long as he had by being ignorant. Of course that didn't explain how the kitties had survived as long as they had... but then again, they were now dead and he immortal. The telepath held no delusions that could not be killed, however. It would just be very difficult.   
  
Green eyes studied their guest as the man studied each of them in turn, asking questions but giving no room for him to answer. No matter. Schuldig didn't really care for the fellow anyway. The man full of himself, yet at the same time was very, very dangerous. Someone to be wary of. Someone to sit back and watch and just go with the flow of whatever was in the best interest of Schwarz. If that meant behaving like his puppet for a while, so be it. Nothing new there.   
  
While he may whine and piss and moan about it, the only person Schuldig truly answered to was Crawford. So if Crawford said they were to do what this Muraki wanted in order to achieve their goal and form the alliance he asked for, then he would. With much bitching.   
  
Raising an eyebrow at the doctor, Farfarello's full lips parted, showing teeth more animal than human, the rare dark grin accompanied by a low throaty laugh. Farfarello had little faith in the icons and truths behind his failed God, and he had little care now for the demon now inside the Doll in their care. Power never impressed him, and he was not too impressed by the immortality that he had been granted. Even before the Demon awoke, he didn't feel the pain nor was he easily felled by the blows of others on him. True his body recovered slower than now but Farfarello was still unimpressed. Until he saw the promises delivered, he will continue to question the Demon. He felt that faith was only for those who were not strong enough to accept the truth of their own limits.   
  
"One can have the power of the universe and still be felled by a single stone," he said softly, his eye fixated on Muraki's face. "This immortality only goes so far and the gods will weep regardless of who is granted long life."   
  
"Farfarello."   
  
Looking up at Crawford, the Irishman's eye narrowed, the colour of his amber eye a swirling chaos of thoughts as he met the steady cold cocoa coloured eyes of his leader. Then he shrugged, looking away and pulling a knife from a hidden sheath, bring the weapon to his lips to nibble reflexively on the tip.   
  
Satisfied that Farfarello will let the matter rest for the moment, Crawford adjusted his glasses and raised an eyebrow at the doctor's vague words. From what Nagi and Schuldig had found out about Muraki, the more he knew that the white haired male was like him, another manipulative person who easily moved through life using others as pawns in his games. And with Este cleared from the board, no doubt Schwarz was going to be the next pawns if he did not watch their next moves.   
  
"Why don't you explain how our goals could work together, Doctor Muraki."   
  
  
  
**Footnotes:**   
  
There is a little grey kitten asleep on my lap as I type this. Thought you oughta know.   
  
Read our ff.net profile for information about who we are and what AM is. 


	7. Part Seven

**Disclaimer:** If we owned the Yami and Weiß bishies, we'd be doing far more with them than just writing. But, we don't own them, so we only have writing to keep us happy.   
  
**Angra Mainyu**   
  
_Arc One - Arrival - Part Seven_   
  
----------------------------   
  
Humans really were such simple creatures, interesting in their own silly ways even if they were immortal. Most demons of her rank usually were just able to play and torment their eternally damned souls in hell, never actually seeing them in their living element. There really wasn't much difference... Staying on her perch on the open windowsill, deep midnight blue eyes just watched as Muraki greeted the team and they exchanged a few words. Brad and the doctor seeming to have a little smirk war. Really it was like watching something go back and forth... Grown men who were really children in a game of ping-pong, pretty much ignoring the rules of the game and making up their own. But both seemed to be making up their -own- set of rules and forgetting to tell the other. Each just trying to smack the ball back to the other faster and harder than the last return to prove their advantage over the other... and yet, hide it.   
  
Really. Fascinating stuff.   
  
Turning her dark gaze out, Aya looked over the city, the skyline darkening with a scattering of clouds blocking the moon and stars illumination. There was a growing darkness in her eyes as well, a slight hunger for what her purpose was. Just as the demon which was summoned into Sakura was a bit hungry upon arrival from the hell realm for blood, mangled flesh, destruction, and pure agonising pain, the demon housed in Fujimiya Aya's body was no different. Even if far more controlled than that lower more primal urge controlled one. Actually it had been the difference in host bodies which had been key...   
  
The nearby chaotic energy and dying souls had provided it with a bit of what it needed as it came in through the opened portal, but it was still a destructive demon of pure evil and chaos. That -was- its purpose. Everyone needed a purpose right? But before it could go and start wreaking havoc and destruction on the unsuspecting little mortals... there had been the slight matter of who had brought it forth, and the contract of its service being indebted to Schwarz while it remained in this host vessel. So it couldn't serve its purpose and feed its own need and go out and crumble buildings and cause blood to flow in the streets because mister future seer kept insisting that he was waiting for a proper time and manner in which to unleash the demon's power.   
  
In the demon's own hardly humble opinion, he was simply wasting valuable time. There was only so long a demon from another realm could be here before others started feeling the off currents... and started being determined to set everything right. Little mortals never much liked beings from other realms being involved in their piddly little existence.   
  
But she was just a full evil incarnate, what did she know? No one ever listened to the granter of immortality.   
  
Tugging a bit sharply on her braid, savouring that pain for a moment, Aya narrowed her eyes as she listened to the conversation. Really, the Irishman could be a bit more grateful to the relatively nicely given immortality. Had she known he would be like this she would have granted the other three the gift and then just crushed him like a bug to prove to him how immortal he had -not- been prior to her arrival. Smirking a bit at that and allowing the thought to slip out, not caring if Schuldig heard it or not, Aya suppressed a chuckle. Why not let the members of the... all-powerful Schwarz know that they were thoroughly annoying a quite powerful demon. Something that was truly a foolish thing to do. Even if there were four of them. And one of her.   
  
She was not just any normal demon you know. She was a destruction demon! With breasts!   
  
And soul possession and brimstone but she was bored. How long were they going to discuss these things? Sure she had been in existence for eons in a realm of terrors and evil which would make all of Schwarz scream like children in fright. All the traumas on earth couldn't compare to what was her 'home'. She came from a world of no certainties and even less stabilities. Could one blame her for being a bit restless? She had been here... for three days. In this building while the sun rose and set on this world just ripe to be crushed like a fruit, blood running like juice. And still. It just sat there. Perfectly living and untormented. It was depressing. It had been three days, she could have gotten at least a small foothold on turning the world to a hellish realm. Maybe just destroyed half of Tokyo, struck some fear, possessed some souls, had some minions...   
  
Piddling with the dark raven hair as the males chatted a bit more about goals and such. Undoing the ties at the ends, she fluffed her long cascades of hair back over her shoulders, running her pale fingers through the strands. She really couldn't sit here any longer. She was restless as well as getting a bit... hungry. Even Schuldig was starting to look good and she knew that was off limits. Though it would remind Schwarz of her blood thirst for carnage, she doubted they'd like to see her spill the telepath's blood or any of their blood on the floor. Setting her hands on the windowsill she lifted and raised her self to sit back a bit. Her gaze moved over the males, attempting a tiny trick to draw all the room's attention to herself. If it worked, fine. If not, fine.   
  
"Well since you boys are discussing plans for the future, I feel I am really not needed for such a thing. I know my purpose in the scheme of things," she said coolly, glancing over to Brad, "even if some feel it is best to postpone displaying that purpose. So while you four continue your grand thoughts on world domination, I'm going to go explore the city. I like to see how things look before they're completely crushed."   
  
Smirking lightly, the girl didn't wait for a reply and lifted herself up from the window and swung her legs up, the white skirts of her dress whipping about her lithe form as she plummeted down from the window from the fortieth story. Suicidal? Not quite. Just showing off and deciding to not use conventional exit ways like elevators. Or doors. As she passed the thirtieth floor, not giving a damn about detection and using all that time for concentration, one of her demon traits Schwarz had yet to know of showed itself. Large black wings sprouted forth from her back and beat the air to catch herself easily, quickly carrying herself up above the rooftops to fly, just another dark patch against the dark clouds.   
  
--   
  
There was no doubt that the others were quickly remembering the incidents of their deaths, something that made Omi less and less inclined to speak of his memory of that mission, or lack therein. Given the adverse reactions thus far to it, he almost took comfort in the blank stretch of memories. Without knowing what went on, he couldn't feel torn about who, if anyone, was at fault. As cold as it sounded, without knowing his death's details, he could remain unbiased as a manager was supposed to be. Something he normally faulted at, but tried his hardest to be. Maybe being distant in this would be good, to help everyone sort things out.   
  
The only problem was that his lack of memory also gave him a lack of confirmation about the truth that the Shinigami had spoken. The reactions of the others was enough to extend a night's sense of trust to their visitors, but Omi would need to talk with the others before he decided anything else. In private, where perhaps his lack of knowledge about the mission wouldn't seem so weak to display.   
  
Sighing softly, the sapphire-eyed youth nodded to Youji before retrieving the gun laid on the chair. "You can sleep here tonight," he said, restating what his older friend had. "When you partner is feeling better, we'll continue this discussion. If you need anything, there's a kitchen in the next room; maybe some water might help him?"   
  
A swift glance was spared to the stairs, the youth's mind working on how well the security system would work with the roof door broken. He could reroute the feed to cover for the evening, at least. "I'll be upstairs if anything else is needed," he added, one more look given to the pair.   
  
Staying where he was, Tsuzuki continued to rub the back of Hisoka's hand, not interfering as memories started returning to the four new Shinigami. Memories can be bad. Very very bad. That was something he knew from personal experiences, having his own memories to deal with that nearly brought his end in the first of the gods, and he knew that right now, anything he could do would not be very welcomed on their parts.   
  
"Thank you and we will, but I think that you covered everything we need for the night," Tsuzuki replied with a weary smile, nodding at the upstairs. "We know how this can be quite a shock to people so we won't impose on your time while you four work things through. We'll stay over night but if you need more time we'll go somewhere else and start some of our investigations to give you room."   
  
Waving good night to Omi, Tsuzuki turned around to look Hisoka over before getting up and fetching some water from the kitchen. It took him a few moments to find a glass, but he soon came back with two of them, one for himself and one for Hisoka. Placing his glass on the coffee table, he dipped his fingers into the cool water and held them over Hisoka's lips, letting the moisture drip onto his soft looking lips. Seeing no reaction, he repeated the process.   
  
Once the other acknowledged the offer for the night, Omi nodded and started up the stairs. For safety's sake, he kept the gun with him, planning to give it back once he was certain about the two Shinigami and their purposes. Until then, it was smarter to keep any potential weapon away from those that were still partial unknowns.   
  
Keeping his eyes to the stairs, to prevent himself from tripping or stumbling - though that was hardly the problem, the stairs known well to him from multiple times traversing them - Omi tried to still the bewildered thoughts distracting him about what they had just been told. There was so much information, and so few ways to confirm it. Already he had intentions to investigate what he could via his computer; perhaps there was surveillance evidence, or information from Kritiker he could snare in the middle of the night. That was the advantage to being the manager of an assassin group; whenever he wished it, Omi could simply send a single message to a contact in Kritiker and have what information they could pass on given to him. If anyone within the organisation knew about these mysterious agents called Shinigami from this odd Summoner's Office, he could likely have the details about it before the night was out.   
  
With that in mind, the youth slipped into his room, eyeing the light still keeping everything bright. Maybe he could find out how that happened as well; perhaps some freak power surge in their district or something. Flicking the lightswitch on and off a few times, he sighed. Each attempt to shut of the light ended in failure, the bulb still burning brightly. Muttering a soft curse, he closed the door behind him and reached for his jacket, hung on the hook behind the door. Using it as insulation for his hand, and a chair for a height boost, he unscrewed the lightbulb a bit, enough that the glaring brightness dimmed to shadows again.   
  
"Memo, call an electrician to fix that," he murmured softly to himself, setting his jacket on the back of his computer chair and eyeing the screen. After a moment of consideration, he slipped into the chair and booted the system up. With his prior nap, he figured he had a few hours in which he could freely search for information. Then he could sleep again, if nothing came of it.   
  
--   
  
Demons were always so adamant towards being the centre of attention when they chose to display themselves. Muraki granted Aya the glance she so wished from him, feeling the presence of the darker power within her craving acknowledgement for destruction. Watching the young lady fall back from the safety of the building, he arched a brow and nodded. It seemed that Schwarz was being a little too closed-in with their new toy. As a result, the summoned creature clearly felt restless and perhaps even useless in a world that was not bowing down to her chaos. That sort of withdrawal was to be expected; you couldn't expect to take Godzilla out of Tokyo and not find it building a scaled version of the city to destroy in the interim. It was a way to satisfy cravings, as the demon had likely just gone to do.   
  
Turning his gaze back to Brad, he simply smiled thinly. "Never did I say that our goals could work together right now, Crawford," he replied smoothly. "Just that an alliance could help the two of us achieve our desires that much sooner. However, perhaps my timing was poor; you all seem restless and not inclined to discuss the possibilities of the future. Perhaps we should arrange to meet at a later time, when the moment suits you more. No doubt you already know where I find employ in this city; you can contact me through that when you are ready, or I shall simply contact you when the time comes."   
  
Nodding his respect, or something to be seen as that, to Crawford, Muraki headed towards the door he had entered through. Reaching it, he paused again to glance back at the room, slight amusement touching his silver eye. "Do take care of yourselves in the interim; even an immortal can have an accident, and I would hate to find any of you upon the surgeon's table for repair."   
  
With that, the white-clothed man placed hid hand upon the door and opened it. Taking the physical route out, he awarded himself a certain sense of victory. While the meeting had been unintentionally cut short, he felt that enough good came of it to have been worthwhile. The Schwarz puppets still needed time, though, something he felt that three days had been enough for. Nothing to concern himself over, though; he had all the time in the world to wait for them to be ready for the tug of the puppeteer's string.   
  
"No you didn't," Brad replied, resisting the urge to add that the doctor didn't say anything besides lay claim to their good fortunes. Which in a way he had brought it all about with his cryptic puzzles and clues. The immortality was for the benefit of Schwarz; Brad longed to go to Rosenkreuz and exact a bloody vengeance on that institute on a personal level. He had made the reservations for a private jet to take them there tomorrow, having first needing the time to adjust to the gift of their demon. And while he had been keeping Aya inside most times, he did not tell her outright that she cannot find whatever she needed. As long as the demon kept its part of the bargain and left Tokyo mostly intact, he could care less how much destruction she caused to the rest of humanity so long as she didn't get caught. People just assumed things from what he said far too much of the time.   
  
"We will do so, Doctor Muraki. You have a good evening," Brad added, watching as the doctor left. Once the door closed behind him, the American turned to regard the rest of Schwarz currently in the room. "If you are that restless Schuldig and Farfarello, go out and do whatever you deem as fun now. I never placed you four under house arrest so I do not know why you two are acting like sulking children. I don't trust that man and I gather from the way he was not saying anything that he sees us as the Elders had. But unlike the Elders, he is crafty enough to use what he sees against us. Tomorrow we are heading for Rosenkreuz and letting Aya do whatever she wants to that place after we've done what we've planned for, so make sure to get some rest."   
  
Pulling his knife from his lips with a soft popping sound, Farfarello rose to feet, eyeing Brad like the man had an extra head. Smirking slightly, he put the weapon away, speaking in a humour tinged voice, "Have you ever poked at something you never seen before, trying to figure out what it is, Crawford? Books explain nothing even when they are the famed Book of Demons especially when the Church had damaged the most important information inside them. If it was so powerful, the Demonchild would not have needed us to break the barrier and bring it here to thrive, yet it feels it superiority over us. Why is that? Are demons truly angels that fell or are they a figment of man's darkness personified?"   
  
Raising an eyebrow at the Irishman, Brad felt a headache start to grow. Leave it to the God-hater to want to know more about a demon...   
  
Waving a hand in dismissal of the rest of the room, Farfarello headed for the door, banging out with a laugh. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Brad sighed faintly.   
  
--   
  
Sitting out on the fire escape outside his bedroom window, an unlit vanilla scented cigarette dangled in Ran's hand, the man just casting his violet gaze up to the bright night sky. There was once a time when he adored the night sky, enjoying laying out in his backyard with his sister and just picking out constellations and making up stories about them, and names for the ones they didn't know, or making their own. The starry sky was just endless and had been filled with possibilities when he was a child and growing up, his father telling him each star in the black velvet sky, so far off but very real, was a possibility for him in the future. Reach for the stars... that way if you only get there halfway... the moon is still well within reach. They'd once been a comfort of the mysterious wondrous possibilities of his life, the redhead utterly enthralled with staring up at them...   
  
The same stars and moon that had shone down on him every night of his life...   
  
The same ethereally glowing heavenly objects that had been blurred by clouds and rain the night his entire life changed. It was similar tonight, dark clouds starting to patch over the brilliant night sky. The same night sky that had concealed him in shadows every single night as he came forth to make his kills, striving always forth for a future where Reiji would be dead and Aya would be safe to awaken. And for what.... he'd completely utterly failed. His sister had possibly killed him and all of his teammates, perhaps she was dead... or she was running rampant with intents to destroy the city... or she was in Schwarz's hands and wasn't even herself. It had been his fault that they'd all died... he should have insulted he alone go to the temple where the ceremony was taking place. It was his sister, his alone to regain... it hadn't even been an official mission, Birman had found the locations on her own as a favour to him.   
  
And Birman and Manx... were they dead too because of him?   
  
Squeezing his eyes shut, he leaned against the fire escape landing and opened his eyes again, looking up. The night sky had always seemed bright with possibilities... now it seemed duller somehow, less bright, like it was mocking him. All of that was gone for him. Maybe it had been gone since he first became an assassin. No road to happiness can be paved with the drying blood of others spilled by your hands. No wonder at least one member of his team blamed him. It hurt a bit to be looked at that way by Ken, as the younger assassin had once looked at Kase after learning the truth. As if he had betrayed him and stolen away his life.   
  
His apartment door was currently locked, all knocks would be ignored by the man if he could hear them. If any came... He just still didn't want company. Didn't want the pity and comfort he didn't deserve, didn't want to see the anger he did deserve. He hadn't really liked leaving as abruptly as he had but... he'd been forced to. Or maybe he kept his door locked to the others that night because of the simple fear that no one would come talk to him, and this way he didn't have to know that fact.   
  
He really was pathetic sometimes in his own hidden ways, staying aloof fully when he half didn't want to, and feeling the hurt from that lonely part of him.   
  
Sighing softly Ran turned his gaze to peer down at an old photo he held in his hand that they'd paid to have taken at the carnival years ago of the two standing in front of a blossoming cherry tree, the female Fujimiya sibling holding a clear plastic bag filled with water with the fish Ran had won for her at a carnival game. Both smiling so brightly without a care in the world... he hardly recognised himself. Looking up to the stars he'd tried in vain to reach to all his life, he narrowed his eyes faintly. "Couldn't I even find peace in death?"   
  
He looked down again and flicked the unburned cigarette from his fingers to fall into the alley. It too could bring him no comfort. It couldn't miraculously return his teammates their lives. As for himself... he supposed it didn't much matter really. He'd felt cut off from life for years. Probably deep down he'd always known that never could he return to a normal life... one day he'd die, every mission was a risk. Only thing to do now was train his abilities as best he could and do his damnedest to do what he always did... protect his sister. Even if he wasn't very good at it... someone had to try to at least find her and figure out her state, and how she could be returned to her normal state and live out a happy life. That was really all he'd ever wanted after he saw her struck down by a car, his parents dead in a house that had just exploded around him.   
  
  
  
**Footnotes:**   
  
Review response time! This is where we answer the questions that have been made in reviews so far. ^^   
  
Story flow may seem a bit jagged in cases because this is being written in an RP setting, which means each character is being written by a different person. Viewpoitns, thoughts, centrality all varies with the character. We can't really fix this, because it would take away a great deal of the depth in each character, which would (in turn) hurt the story itself. Sorry. ^^;   
  
Talking about the angst; thanks for telling we got that part done. Myself, I'm a fan of the first three episodes and dislike the Kyoto arc of Yami, so it's not really fan-specific angst that's happening. In the next arc, as the characters settle, a bit more humour filters back into the Yami section. This arc is a character-testing arc, since none of us have every written for Yami before; expect a few mood fluctuations in the characters before something is settled on. ^^;   
  
Schwarz is gonna see something a little different from the usual 'we are evil, fear us' routine that everyone and their puppy uses, worry not. However, I will not disclose what it is yet; that's for you guys to read and find out as it happens.   
  
As for the requests for Tsu/Hisoka moments... We'll see. ^.- In gaming it's a little in-the-air what happens, so if sap occurs, it's not really planned. We all love our fluffy moments though, so there stands good chances.   
  
Thanks for following the story so far! Reviews, comments, etc are always appreciated and we answer questions as we can about anything regarding the story. Forget not the Yahoo group, if you want a preview of what the arc parts are gonna be.   
  
Read our ff.net profile for information about who we are and what AM is. 


	8. Part Eight

**Disclaimer:** Yami and Weiß no ours. All we own is the wording of our writing, the characters belong to the people who own the copyright. Sue us and all you'll do is stop us from writing, thus saddening our readers. Please don't sue.   
  
**Angra Mainyu**   
  
_Arc One - Arrival - Part Eight_   
  
----------------------------   
  
Even the deepest of sleeps, forced or intentional, could not withstand the influence of the rising and falling anger and upset of the room. Driven to an already fitful rest but Ran's death, and his subsequent 'death' in mirror to that, Hisoka was not left in the depths of dreamless sleep for long. The emotions of the brunet phased through his mind, disturbing the quiet that had fallen with him, jarring the empathy that so haunted him into a growing upset. The one thing that kept the youth from another unintentional sync was the soothing touch of Tsuzuki's hand, a calming distraction in the maelstrom of phased emotion.   
  
When the tide of emotion finally ebbed, the source of the mood shifts completely gone from the room, Hisoka finally stirred. It wasn't so much the relatively peaceful feel of a quiet room that kept him from simply slipping back into a deep sleep as it was the feel of water across his lips. Cracking open a jade eye, Hisoka spied Tsuzuki with the glass of water. Batting away the other's hand, before more of the tempting liquid could be wasted in the motion, he slowly tired to sit up.   
  
And promptly pressed his hands against his temples as a headache began to pound there. Reaching out unsteadily, he stole the glass the other had brought and shakily took a drink from it. The cool water helped some, giving him a moment of clarity before the mental pain decided to cling to its spot, resulting in a dull ache from the overload of emotions that had not been his own. He lifted the glass to press it lightly against his forehead, his other eye opening so that he could simply stare blankly at the material of the couch that he was sitting upon.   
  
"Never again," he muttered, "am I going to tell someone that they are dead."   
  
Letting his breathing even out, Hisoka lowered the glass again to take another sip. He needed to relax a bit, and the pressure of the closed in room, with minds riddled in confused upset weighing down from above, was not going to help at all. He needed to get out of the building for a minute, or find some way to escape the emotions, so carelessly left hanging in the air.   
  
Gathering himself, and his balance, together, Hisoka rose from the couch. Though still unsteady on his feet, he felt somewhat better to be standing. Better to stand against the assault - even if it was only one of minds - than to lay down and let it run over him. "I'm going to go outside," he said, looking down to Tsuzuki. "I need some air right now."   
  
Rising to his feet, Tsuzuki looked Hisoka over a few moments, his velvety twilight eyes serious underneath the feathery sable bangs of his hair. He remained silent for a moment, studying his partner's drawn face and the weary set of his shoulders. The emotions in this place right now could not be good for him at all. Strong feelings never were good for an empath, especially when they suck the empath into the harsh images that accompanied such thoughts. And Tsuzuki understood the need to be alone after one has experienced such strong images. There were times when he still needed to be away from everyone while dealing with the harsh past of his own life.   
  
"Sounds like a good idea," Tsuzuki replied finally, holding out his hand to take the glass from him. "Just be careful out there. I don't know if Muraki may try anything tonight, but I don't want to take any chances."   
  
Frowning at himself for mentioning that person's name, Tsuzuki shook his head and forced a smile. Everything always came down to that doctor. Almost every case they been on up until the Kyoto incident. Afterwards they had been forced to take it easy, the mental scars of the first of the gods still in everyone's minds. Tsuzuki nearly killed himself then. If it wasn't for Hisoka, he would have gladly let the flames claim him. And now? Tsuzuki could not put it off any more. He had to face those flames again.   
  
"I'm gonna grab some sleep so don't wake me up when you come in," he added with a soft yawn, stretching his arms over his head.   
  
Nodding, Hisoka handed the glass back to Tsuzuki. Feeling the hesitance in the other shift to a calm determination, the young Shinigami looked at his partner, almost questioning what was going through his mind at the moment. Some sort of decision that was a long time in making, but that was all that really reached him. Unlike a telepath, Hisoka found it quite difficult to reach into the mind of another; his empathy worked on phasing and sense alone, merely picking up what was happening, rather than causing it. So, he could not delve deeply into Tsuzuki's mind in order to find what the decision was about. Aside from the determination, all he felt was the comforting warmth of wanted protection.   
  
The meaning behind that was set aside to ponder at a later time, the jade-eyed teen turning towards the stairs and heading slowly up them. A hand always remained gripped to the railing, a support in case any other emotional surprise tried to reach up and grab him. Especially with his choice to pass by the floor with the four dead assassins. That could easily turn problematic if any of them had any sort of emotional burst of energy as he passed, and he hardly wanted to end up on the floor again by an overload of senses.   
  
Stepping softly to keep from alerting the others of his presence, though it was hardly hidden under the lights that still shone brightly in the hall, Hisoka made his way to the roof stairs, opening the door. As he walked, the emotions of despair, uncertainty, anger, and upset all flowed through him as easily as air through a screen. Along with those feelings were the images of the others as they remembered, bits and pieces coming together. Except for one, who seemed to be a darkness of memory, but that was a welcome break in the sea of frustration and upset he was attempting to wade through. Had he any basic care for the assassins, he might have chosen to investigate later, but only Tsuzuki had ever earned his concern. It was how his life was, his own emotions and caring locked away from all the betrayal that had been brought upon him in it.   
  
The steps were taken with more ease, a lightening air filling his pace as he rose away from the press of death and attempts of understanding therein. It was like stepping out of a crowded room and getting a breath of fresh air after the staleness of mere seconds before. Hisoka was not one to waste the free feel of it, not after the press of the indoors.   
  
True fresh air greeted him as he stepped past the broken door of his original entrance, light eyes flickering to gaze upon it and consider how to rectify that later. Perhaps he would be able to ignore it, and thus would not have to harass Tatsumi with the broken door expense he had considered. Still, he could justify it as a business expense; certainly it was more acceptable than any junk or snack expense his partner suggested.   
  
Walking to the edge of the roof, Hisoka stared out towards the moon, seeing most of the red hints that had angered him further faded completely from the ethereal light. Even the touch of the doctor's curse was starting to fade again, the crimson markings fading from his skin. Or so he confirmed, rolling up his sleeve to stare at them. That meant Muraki was gone... for the moment. Something he would have been fine to leave at its own, were it not for the sense of another cursed soul somewhere in the city. He had felt it upon his arrival, a quiet mind that was tainted and locked within the poisonous grasp of Muraki. He thought of that now, as clear green eyes moved to glance across the buildings, wondering who that person was, what they knew of the white-haired man, and whether or not they liked him.   
  
Stepping onto the ledge-like edge of the roof, Hisoka sighed softly, the darkness of anger clouding his gaze again. That bastard played with people like they were his darling dolls. It was a sin he wanted to see the man hanged for, but could not do by himself. Given the tendency of Muraki's patients holding the doctor in extreme reverence, there was the rare occasion when he felt, perhaps, he was misguided somewhere in his hate. But the memories of that night, sporadic in their appearances, always stiffened his resolve. A resolve that lead him towards even darker hatred, and the desire to simply steal away each of the man's 'patients' and free them of his taint.   
  
Or perhaps steal them away as a lure for Muraki so that he could kill him.   
  
No flinch or wince touched his form at the murderous thought, one that on occasion crossed his mind. It was something he might do... some day. When he had the strength and power to do so. That was so far off though, which left Hisoka frustrated with his inability to fight back, and determined to find a weakness in that man. A weakness, perhaps, that the other cursed one might know of.   
  
Leaning his weight forward, the jade-eyed Shinigami simply let his feet slip off the ledge, a quick glance already given to a lack of witnesses. A simple adjustment of his concentration slowed his descent, until the sneakers he was so fond of touched the ground again. Glancing down the street, the youth again rolled down his sleeves, hiding once more the red marks that were etched there for eternity. His decision was made, to simply go for a walk and hope that the sense of the taint would lead him to the other victim.   
  
Then, perhaps, he would be a step closer to revenge.   
  
--   
  
Still gazing up at the night sky, Ran was brought of his silent angsting by a slight movement in his peripheral vision. Frowning lightly as he was suspicious of everyone who came near Koneko at this time of night, he leaned forward a tiny bit on the fire escape to peer at the street where he'd seen something. The fire escape shrouded in shadows from the small alley it was extended out over, hidden by the building next door. The boy's blond hair caught light from a streetlight and for a moment he almost mistook him for Omi before noticing the differences in stature.   
  
Hisoka. The empathic Shinigami.   
  
The one who just a bit ago had passed out quite cold.   
  
If it had been any of the other members of Weiß he'd seen stepping out for a walk, he'd have dismissed it and possibly slunk back into his room so they wouldn't possibly see him and wonder what he was doing just hanging out on the fire escape. Them being in a random place late at night in front of their own home he could ignore. But not this one... Just where was he going?   
  
Moving carefully to not make a sound, not yet really knowing how to fly or make himself invisible or any of those Shinigami abilities, the man swung himself over the side of the fire escape to climb down, pausing to make sure there would be no scrape of his shoe against the metal. Sometimes it was just eerie how quietly he had been able to move, some saying he was like the night, just blending perfectly into it with ease. Long practised abilities... Moving down to the ground of the alleyway he peered around the corner and slowly and cautiously followed after the male as he went on his walk, some of his earlier upset and confusion slipping away. This was to a degree what he was used to... slipping into a cautious and curious stealth mode to move through the shadows for investigation of whatever reason.   
  
Though they were now dead assassins, they had not gotten that way by foolishly trusting others. Though if you currently asked Ken that, he may speak otherwise, but that's not to be thought on because he left his angst for a bit to slink in cool confident Abyssinian mode. These two Shinigami had arrived from an organisation that they really knew nothing about... knowing too much about them and saying one fact which was that... they were dead. Very vivid memories had confirmed that. But that was hardly to say that they were the only people in this non-living realm. What if they weren't even -from- this EnmaCho's Shoka Division of the Summoner's Office? Or rather... what if the non-living realm was a bit like the living... and this EnmaCho was a bit like Este? And had simply gotten to them before the 'Kritiker' of the breathing dead could find them. Spending the rest of his eternity being what he'd fought the last years of his life was not what he wanted for infinity.   
  
Or maybe that was utterly ridiculous but he doubted it, all and all, this was still utterly suspicious... also there was something about the blonde he knew even though he had never really spoken of it. He was eaten and dark with anger and hate, wanting revenge. How could ran not know? It was like looking in a mirror... a darkened mirror though, the man a bit deeper in his need for revenge than Ran had been with Takatori even at his worst moments. That fact hardly just classified Hisoka as utterly untrustworthy, but it was unnerving. Who was this one he despised so... this Muraki? The man that had come here tonight and spoken with Hisoka's own companion? Most likely judging by the boy's reactions to just his name.   
  
Many things to ponder on... and there was so far not much to start with considering it all. It was all unsettling though. He intended to at least attempt to figure it out, discover more about these two in any means possible. Never did he wish for any harm to come to his team, caring more for those three than he would have ever admit to himself and known he ever should... but already the worst had come to them, whether Ran was at fault, he was a direct cause in some manner. He could at least try to ensure that their afterlives wouldn't be the same type of hellish experience their deaths had been.   
  
-end ... of this arc-   
  
**Footnotes:**   
  
there we go, arc one is completely uploaded! Arc two is nearly finished, so I'll begin posting it soon. =3 C&C is luffed to many levels.   
  
Read our ff.net profile for information about who we are and what AM is. 


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